The Ice Princess
by JustAnotherGirlInTheWorld
Summary: We all know her now, but who was Elsa BEFORE she became the infamous Snow Queen? She was the Ice Princess, of course! In this fic, follow Elsa through her troubled childhood, learn the horrifying truth about her parents, and see all the love, guilt, pain, and heartbreak that the cold can bring in the small kingdom of Arendelle. Includes torture and death (of OC characters).
1. The Gloves

"Elsa, please, you have to understand how serious this is."

He stood there, mere inches away from her pale, worried face, his steady breathing creating a beat for her heart to follow. His warm brown eyes melted her icy ones into a pool of swirling blue, and she wondered, not for the first time, how a man with so much warmth could create a girl as cold as her.

"I know, Papa. I really know. I'll do whatever you say, I promise."

She looked right back at him, gripping his hand in hers as if her life depended on it. As he had spoken, he had knelt down in front of her to accommodate for his own towering height, and now the two stood face to face. His expression was very serious, his mouth very stern. These unnatural characteristics of his terrified her.

"You said that before, remember? You said you wouldn't play with your ice powers anymore, and yet look what happened to Anna! How am I supposed to believe you after that?"

At the lecturing words, Elsa yanked her gaze away from his, her eyes suddenly and inexplicably filling with chilled tears. She sucked them back up, determined not to let him see her weakness. She would not cry. If she was going to show him that she could do it, she needed to be strong.

"I'm sorry," she murmured between blue lips. The image of the event that had occurred not even three days before bounced around and around in her head, a nightmare that she could never escape. "I didn't know how dangerous I was back then. But I know now. I can control it."

Her father nodded, but his stern expression did not falter.

"I know you can, Elsa. You're strong, and you always have been. I know you can do this… but we're going to need to work on it. Things may get a little tough for you from here on out, I may start to get very harsh, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you. In fact, it means the opposite. It means I love you enough to do anything to help you get better. You understand?"

The eight-year-old nodded, trying to hold back her whimper. She didn't know what was coming up next, but it couldn't be good. Not from that look on his face. Suddenly, she feared the worst.

"Yes, Papa. I understand. I trust you."

At this, the man finally smiled. The golden twinkle returned in his eye, and slowly he leaned forward and pressed his lips on the girl's temple. All the fear drained from her body in an instant, and she couldn't help the wave of unrequested warmth that rushed in to take its place. It wasn't real warmth, she knew. Because of her 'disability,' she was incapable of feeling any temperatures. This feeling now of safeness and soundness was as close as she ever came to it.

When her father pulled back, he was looking her deep in the eyes. She could sense his sorrow. He was ready to tell her something, but she could not guess what. It looked bad.

"Your mother and I… have decided to close the gates today. We're reducing our staff number, blocking all the windows, and you and Anna are to stay inside at all costs. We feel that this is going to be the best way to keep your secret hidden. "

At this, Elsa's eyes went wide. This was not something she expected. Nor was it something she wanted.

"But… Anna," she began, confused as to why her little sister had to be pulled into all this, "I know I'm not supposed to talk to the other children, but why her? If you won't let us play together, and she can't leave, what is she going to do all day? She'll be all alone…"

"I know," he whispered sadly, eyes flitting towards the ground and back again. "Anna doesn't deserve to be isolated, but it's our only choice. We all have to make sacrifices today, Elsa. I'm sorry it has to be that way, but I can't stop it."

Elsa looked down at her feet, her soft, blue slippers standing out against the red, carpeted ground. She couldn't help the overwhelming wash of shame and guilt that spread through her chest as thick and heavy as blood. Everybody in her family had to pay… all because of her. What had she done?

"What are you telling Anna?" she whispered, still not daring to look up. "How are you going to explain this to her?"

"I told her it was to keep her safe," he said, his eyes burning into the top of her head. "That there are bad things in this world, and that this was the only way to protect her from them."

Elsa nodded. How ironic, she thought to herself. Anna thought that they were keeping her safe by locking out the monsters of the outside, but in reality, all they were doing is locking her _in _with a monster. And she'd never even know it.

"Okay," was all Elsa managed to choke out, remembering the conversation they had had with the trolls earlier that week. "I'll make sure not to talk to her at all, just like you said. I won't build a snowman with her ever again… I promise."

Very slowly, her father stuck out his hands and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. Once again, the two were face to face.

"I'm proud of you today," he said strongly, firmly. "You're being very mature for a girl of your age. And I'll be even more proud of you once you learn to control yourself. Trust me, you'll get the hang of it soon enough. The gates will be open in no time."

At this, Elsa couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her face. "Really?" she asked. "You really think I can do it?"

He looked at her lovingly. "Of course, and these will help." From the back of his pocket, he pulled out a pair of beautiful, icy-blue gloves. Elsa stood stock-still as he pulled them over her fingers. They fit perfectly, every curve of her palm accounted for.

"I had these specially made," he told her, his eyes glinting. "They're created from a special fabric. As freeze-proof as clothing can be. As long as you have these on, you'll be fine."

Elsa looked at them, awestruck at their beauty. They were the most wonderful present anybody had ever given her in all of her life. She wanted to hug her father, she really did, but she restrained herself. She needed to look like a poised, mature grownup. And grownups didn't just hug their daddies whenever they felt like it.

"See," her father continued, his eyes kind, "Conceal it…"

"Don't feel it," Elsa finished, already knowing their signature phrase.

Together, they chorused, "Don't let it show."

Elsa looked up at her father, staring at his eyes. They were so warm. They made her feel so at home. She couldn't imagine ever going through this all without him.

"I love you so much," she whispered, ready to begin her new adventure, so long as her dad was at her side.

"Love you too, my little Ice Princess."

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><p><strong>This is just a short intro to what is going to be a fairly long, multi-chapter fic. It's going to retell parts of Elsa's sad, isolated childhood, mostly stuff that I make up, and let me just warn you now, it may get very depressing and disturbing at times. For example, though this chapter shows her the positive sides of her father, I'm also going to show some extremely negative sides of him.<strong>

**It won't necessarily go in chronological order for the chapters, but I figured that this would be a good place to start. I hope you liked it, please read and review!**


	2. The Cage

**This chapter takes place about three years after the first. In this one, Elsa is eleven. Like I said, this fic may not be in chronological order, so later on I may post a chapter that takes place between these two. But meanwhile enjoy, and don't forget to comment :).**

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><p>"I'm scared! It's getting stronger!"<p>

Her voice sounded weak in her throat, shaky, even to her own ears. It was higher-pitched than usual, cracking from her own fear and echoing around and around in the confinement of the room. They didn't understand how it felt to be like this. They didn't understand how hard it was to hold back.

"Elsa," her father stated firmly, Mother standing behind him with a look of concern plaguing her beautiful face. "Getting upset will only make it worse."

As he spoke, he stepped closer to her frail little body, feeling so small as she huddled in a corner. He wanted to comfort her, no doubt. Tell her that it would all be all right, just as he had always done when she was a child. But he didn't understand. Even now, standing here as the frost she had created clung to the walls around her, she could still feel her fingers tingling with unreleased power. Her curse of ice and snow that was just waiting for someone she loved to come near it, hungry to strike down yet another victim. In her panic, Elsa backed even further into the corner of the wall, cowering from his love.

"No, don't touch me!" she screamed, shrinking away from her father's open arms. "Please… I don't want to hurt you."

She could feel the desperation in her voice, stinging her eyes with tears that she once again sucked right back up. For the three years since the incident with Anna had occurred, Elsa was proud to say that she had not cried once. Every time she came close, felt the cool water pooling in the glassy part of her eye, she would merely blink it all away as if it had never even existed to begin with. They would not see her cry. She didn't want them to know how much this was all hurting her.

Hearing her words, her father pulled back, him and Mother looking at Elsa with wide, pitying eyes. They didn't understand. These powers, she had realized long ago, were stronger than both she and her father had originally suspected. They did not like being held back, they did not like being confined, they only wanted to be free. She simply wasn't strong enough to keep them inside for much longer. Didn't they understand that? They were in danger! All of them!

"Elsa, dear," her mother whispered, her hand now resting temporarily on Father's shoulder. "You're not going to hurt anybody. You'll be fine, just calm down."

Elsa shook her head vigorously, breath caught in her throat. What could she say to get them to understand?

"No, no!" she whispered desperately, her heart beating like a mallet in her chest. "You don't get it. I don't think I can hold my powers back anymore! They're getting too strong! I can't stop them!"

"Yes you can," her father said strongly, firmly. "You _can_ stop them, Elsa. You just need to work on it. If you try hard enough, I'm sure—"

"NO!" Ella yelled in panic, the tears now blurring her vision but still not slipping down her face. "Don't you see that I can't? I've tried as hard as I could! But nothing's working, and they're only getting more powerful! There's nothing left for me to do!"

"Please, you just need to—"

"No! Don't you understand? I'm a monst—"

"ELSA!" her father bellowed suddenly, his voice knocking the breath out of her by its sheer power. "Don't you _ever _let me hear you saying that again! You _can_ control it. It's this family's, this kingdom's, and your only hope that you do. Conceal, don't feel, remember?"

Eleven-year-old Elsa sniffled, not bothering to respond. She knew how important it was for her to get control of herself, she really did, but somehow she could already tell that it was a lost cause. She could try and hold it all back for as long as she wanted, but in the end it would always end up exploding out of her, no way to stop it. The question was not _if_ it would happen, but when.

Her father sighed, the anger draining from his gaunt face. His eyes flitted to the ground momentarily, and then met hers, now filled with a hopeless sort of sadness. The worst kind there was, in Elsa's opinion.

"Your mother and I need to get back to dealing with the kingdom, Elsa. In the meanwhile, please get a hold of yourself. Talk to me later when you're ready to start trying again. I'm taking these gloves with me... to get reinforced. I'll bring them back when I can."

Elsa stood in the corner, shivering from something other than cold, as her mother and father shuffled out of the room, looks of gloom daunting their faces. They were both so tired of her by now, she knew they were. After three years of dealing with her unpredictable powers, she was sure anyone would be. Keeping her head aimed towards the ground, she heard the door slam behind them as if it were thunder in her ears. Then she gazed down at her bare hands, and cringed.

Just that afternoon, much to her own fear and confusion, Elsa's ice powers had somehow managed to seep through the pores of the gloves. It had sprayed out like a sprinkler—changing the walls to an icy, frosty white—and in her surging fear she had sprinted to the door as fast as she could and demanded that the nearest servant go fetch her parents immediately. When he had found out, Father had promised to get a seamstress to sew on an extra layer of the freeze-proof fabric, but Elsa's mind was now in shambles. Now, the one thing she thought just might have been able to hold back her powers was destroyed. Maybe her dad would fix it for today, but what was stopping it from breaking again? And again and again and again? She was getting so much stronger now, she couldn't deny that, and no doubt she would continue to grow in the future. What if she grew so powerful that no pair of gloves in the world could _ever _control her? What would she do then?

A million worries rushing through her head at once, Elsa could do nothing more but go crawl inside her bed, cocooning herself under the covers until she could see nothing but the refreshing blue of her bedspread. Her white braid was pressed against the side of her face, still wet with particles of snow, and she struggled to breathe in the confinement of her blankets. Still, in her swirl of fear and confusion, Elsa found herself drifting to sleep almost instantly. She was too emotionally exhausted not to.

Unfortunately for her, however, she ended up having a nightmare. Just like always. She had experienced a lot of different nightmares in the past three years, but this specific one more so than the others. This one was special.

In her dream world, Elsa was wandering through her very own castle. It looked exactly the same as the one she lived in currently, except for the fact that it was made entirely out of ice. Everything, it seemed, was that shade of translucent, glistening blue, shining beautifully in the sunlight. The floor was cool and slick, and at first, Elsa always had fun sliding against it, as if she were ice-skating on a frozen lake. The castle was so beautiful, really. The crystals of ice so incredibly precious. It was impossible not to be amazed.

And then, just as happened every time, Elsa entered a gigantic room. It was the ballroom, she figured, but it didn't look much like it. Besides being made entirely out of ice, the floor was decorated in an array of huge snow piles, just like the one's she'd liked to make for Anna a long time ago. The walls were covered in beautiful snowflake prints, and in a one corner stood a blank-eyed, blank-souled snowman named Olaf. She barely noticed any of this, though. All that mattered was them.

Her father, her mother, and Anna were all in that room. And all of them were completely made out of ice. Frozen.

Every time she saw them, no matter how many times it happened, Elsa would always rush up to the figures. She'd clasp on to their icy, stiff bodies, snowflake tears cascading down her face, and just beg and beg and beg them to come back to life. She'd cry and she'd scream and she'd wail for them to thaw, saying over and over again how sorry she was—how this was all her fault—but always they stayed their same, frozen selves. She had no recollection of doing this horrible crime, but she knew it was all her fault. If it was ice, it had to be.

The figures always had expressions of pure and complete horror stretched across their frozen faces. All except one, that was. Anna—always sweet little Anna—was lying on the snow, her eyes closed and her mouth agape as if she were sleeping. But she was not sleeping. She looked just like she did when Elsa had first frozen her head, on that horrible, infamous day. She was most definitely not sleeping.

When the dream ended—and as long as it seemed to last, it always did—Elsa woke up with a heavy layer of frost covering her bed sheets. The floor was coated in powdery white, and her bed frame had turned clear and slick with ice. She groaned silently to herself. No matter whether or not she wore the gloves to bed, they always managed to slip off in sleep, and this was what she ended up with. She couldn't count the number of times her parent's had had to order their most trusted servants to take an ice scrapper and defrost her bed before she had to use it again for the night.

Speaking of her parents, as Elsa turned around in bed, she saw the reason why she had woken up in the first place. The two of them, looking very serious and solemn, were standing right in front of her closed door, their hands clasped very tightly in their laps. Elsa's eyes widened. By the looks of the position of the sun in the sky, she had slept through dinner last night, and breakfast in the morning. Not very ladylike of her, to oversleep like that.

As quickly and curtly as she could, Elsa pulled herself out of bed. Trying to ignore the embarrassing snowiness of her mattress—it was like wetting the bed for her—she went to straighten the covers, stumbling over her nightgown on the way. Fixing her braid to the standard neatness, she walked over to her parents and stood straight and tall in front of them, ready for her lecture. She deserved it; she really did.

But the lecture did not come.

"Elsa," her father said slowly, the dark circles under his eyes now more apparent than ever. "Your mother and I have things we need to show you today. Very important things."

Before Elsa could respond to this, the woman in front of her spoke out.

"Oh, I don't know. Just look at the poor thing," she heard her mother whisper to him, her voice concerned and very guilty. "Are you sure she's ready for this? She's just a child, after all… what kind of parents are we to show a little girl something like this?"

"It's for her own good," her father whispered back, speaking as if she wasn't even standing right in front of them. "She needs to learn the consequences of refusing to control her powers. This will motivate her. In the end, we'll be glad we did it."

Her mother nodded gloomily, and then once again, the two of them turned to face her. She nearly shrank beneath their heavy, meaningful stares. She simply didn't know how to interpret them. What were they planning to show her?

In obedient silence, Elsa followed her parents as they led her downstairs. They reached the base level of the castle, and then walked right over to a very mysterious door that was always kept locked, no matter the circumstance. She watched in amazement as they opened it up and walked right in, as if this were completely normal. She followed suit, a mix of nervousness and excitement pumping through her icy veins.

The door led to a staircase, and a long one at that. She felt as if she were walking down it for at least a century when the stairs finally came to an end, and soon she was met with the sight of a hallway, lined with barred, iron doors.

"These are the dungeons, Elsa," her mother remarked as the girl gazed around the room, awestruck at just how dank and dark a place could be. She'd heard of dungeons before. They were places where the king and queen—her parents, of course—put criminals whenever they did something bad. She wondered, momentarily, what exactly they _did_ with those criminals after they caught them, since all the cages around here seemed to be empty. However, when her parents stopped at a certain door to the right, that questions dissolved in mouth.

This door was different than the others. It did not have those thick, metal bars. Instead it was just a solid plate of iron, numerous padlocks decorating its edges. It looked very large and serious, as though any criminal that had to be put in there was a very dangerous one. The only thing that confused her about it was the pretty, white snowflake that was painted on its surface. Surely, any criminal that dangerous did not need a snowflake on his door. The very idea seemed so silly.

"What's in there?" Elsa asked innocently, unable to peer through the solid metal.

Her mother released a sound that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, and her father answered simply, his voice very tired, "You'll see."

She watched with fascination as he took his key and unlocked the door, swinging it open so that the hinges creaked from extended lack of use. The room it showed was rather dreary, but it intoxicated Elsa all the same.

The walls, it seemed, were made of slabs of stone, nothing extraordinary in the slightest. At the far side of the wall, the only light source in the entire room, was a tall window made of glass panes. It gave a very low, yet beautiful, view of the fiord, spilling out an icy blue light from the reflection off the waters. This was strange, she thought, considering the fact that she could have sworn that all those steps had led them underground. But to be fair, the castle _was_ initially on a hill, so she guessed it pretty much evened itself out.

On the right side of the room was a bedpost, but it looked fairly new, as it didn't even have a mattress yet—just the wooden frame. Attached to the post, though barely visible in the darkness, were two long, clanking chains. They ended in little bowl-shaped cups, and it took her a second to realize that they were meant to cover and lock up somebody's hands.

Now that was _very_ strange. She didn't understand why anybody in a prison would need their hands covered. They were already trapped, and in a place like this, handcuffs would be plenty sufficient to keep them from hurting anyone or trying to escape... while at least allowing them to _eat_ on their own.

"What are those for?" Elsa asked, pointing towards the chains and metal cups, "Why do you need them?"

"Why don't you go take a look?" her father suggested in an anxious voice unlike his own, and so Elsa did just that. She crept forward, the heels of her shoes clicking against the stone floor, and picked up one of the metal cups. It was heavy in her hands, obviously very strong and durable, and on one side it had a very impressive looking lock. The keyhole, though, was shaped quite strangely. It fascinated her.

"Dad," she asked curiously, "Can you pass me the key?"

He looked unsure for a moment, but then he resented, doing just that. She grabbed it in her fingers without even looking at it and stuffed it in the keyhole. In an instant, the cups had opened, revealing hollow spaces where a person's hands and wrists were supposed to fill. It was interesting and all, but the thing that really captured her attention was when her eyes darted absentmindedly to the key she still clutched in her hand. She realized, suddenly, that it was shaped just like a snowflake.

Snowflake. Snow. Ice. Powers. Elsa.

Elsa.

Her mind began to piece it together with everything else she'd seen that day, running it all through her head, until suddenly everything clicked. She gasped out loud.

The snowflake on the door. The snowflake on the key. Not to mention, the generous view of the fiord. Why would a real criminal need, or deserve, any of those things? The truth was simple. They didn't. This prison wasn't for a criminal.

"It's for me," she whispered out loud, barely aware of the words escaping between her lips. Then she spoke louder, fiercer, "This cage is for _me._" She looked down at the cup-shaped metal between her fingers. It was so obvious, now. The cups were meant to cover her hands so that she couldn't use her snow powers. Not ever. In complete horror, she let them clatter to the ground.

She turned on her heel to face her parents. They both stood there, looking down in guilt.

"Why?" she asked, once again finding that she had to blink back her tears. "Why did you make this?"

"Elsa, princess," her mother simpered, stepping closer as Elsa stepped back. "We have no intent on ever using this, but it's just in case. Just in case your powers really do get the best of you, you understand? We would need to keep Anna and the rest of Arendelle out of danger, and this would be the only way."

Elsa couldn't speak. Her knees felt wobbly beneath her. Did her parents really created her _own_ dungeon? Would they really be willing to use it on her, if worst came to worst? Were they really this _afraid_ of her?

"We needed to show you this," her father suddenly spoke up, his voice kind and calculating, "So that you'd understand just what might happen if you stop trying to hold back your powers. It may be hard, but if you don't keep up the fight, this is where you'll end up. Okay?"

Elsa was still speechless. All she could do was nod. Her head felt heavy on her neck. Very, very heavy.

"Come on, dear," her mother said quietly once she caught the look on her face. She stepped forward and took Elsa by the shoulder—never by the hand, that would be too dangerous—and pulled her over to the door. Elsa watched in silence as they swung the prison door shut. She hoped desperately that this would be the last time she ever saw it.

"Do you think we should show her the other room?" she heard her mother whisper to her father as they began walking up the stairs again.

"No," he replied. "Not tonight. She's still quite shaken, and that will be ten times worse for her. Let's just postpone it all until tomorrow. She needs to soak it all in for tonight."

Her mother nodded, and then the three of them just trotted upstairs in silence, Elsa wondering what on Earth could be 'ten times worse' than what she'd just seen today. All she knew was that it _couldn't_ be good.

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><p><strong>I hope you liked it! Just in case you didn't notice, the dungeon I described was the same one that Elsa was trapped in during the movie. I thought it would be a cool twist if that prison happened to be one that her parents had designed specifically for her in that type of situation. If you think that's bad, though, you should wait until the next chapter O_O. I'm actually so excited to write it XD.<strong>


	3. The Torture

**Hey everybody! Before I begin, I just want to say thank you to ALL of you for reading. I received some really great reviews for my last chapter, and they really just made my day. So if you've reviewed, favorited, or even followed my fic, then thanks a lot! You really inspired me to write :D.**

**Okay, so this chapter takes place a day after the last, and it gets very depressing and gruesome at some parts. Its also VERY long. More than double the length of my last chapter... as you can tell, I tend to ramble. Well, anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

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><p>Elsa could barely sleep that night. She doubted she'd ever be able to sleep again.<p>

Her breathing was loud and consistent in her ear. Her heartbeat rough and unsteady. Every little creak that broke out into the night, whether real or just in her head, shocked her to alertness, and she found that she could not drift even close to the sweet, comforting border of unconsciousness.

Not that sleep seemed all that pleasant, at the moment. With the mix of hopeless desperation for the truth she had discovered, and nervous anticipation for the truth that was yet to come, she knew all she'd end up having was another nightmare. But at a time like this, as she lay awake in the dead of night consuming herself with fear, even a nightmare seemed like a blessing. Anything, it seemed, was better than reality.

Elsa wasn't sure what time it was when she finally gave up on trying to get a good night's rest, but by the look of the moon in the sky and the silence that pulsated from the darkness around it, she could tell that it was very, very late. Creeping on stealthy toes, she pulled herself from her bed and walked over to the window at the edge of her room, her nightgown fluttering at her ankles as light and soundless as a whisper.

The window in her room had a built-in stool beneath it, dressed in a soft, blue pillow for comfort. Very carefully, Elsa sat herself upon it, gazing outwards at the paned glass. She remembered, years ago, how one of her first major outburst of power—or at least the first that she hadn't even meant to release—had been at a window just like this one. Back before she moved herself into a smaller bedroom—Anna's absence making the room built for two seem incredibly huge and lonely—Elsa had always found herself gazing out of the huge window at the very end of the room, nearly five times as big as the one she had now. After having only been trapped inside for a day of two, not yet used to the confinement, Elsa had missed nature's wonders desperately, and this was the only way she got to see its sweet face again.

The sky was clouded to the point of overflow on that certain afternoon, and though she'd seen it almost a thousand times before, her eight-year-old self couldn't help but gaze at the light layer of snow just beginning to graze the ground. It was so beautiful, she remembered thinking to herself, just too perfect. And it was her. She was not the sun princess, not the sand princess, not even the rain princess. She was the ice princess, and this snow was for her. She was sure of it.

She hadn't been scared, hadn't even been the tiniest bit nervous, on that certain day. But maybe it had been the excitement, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, that had put her over the edge. As she had pressed her hands against the windowsill, gazing out as her breath fogged the glass, it had only taken only a split second for the particles of familiar ice to shoot out beneath her fingertips. In an instant, the entire sill had turned to an icy, stinging blue. She had been shocked, really. Shocked and scared and confused. It was the first time she had used her ice powers by accident, and the moment when she realized that they weren't entirely in her control. But she hadn't known, yet. Hadn't known just how powerful she was meant to be. The next day, her father had given her the gloves, and whatever worry still floating in her mind had been set at ease. If only she'd known…

Elsa blinked twice, realizing the unpleasant place her thoughts were wandering, and pulled herself back to reality. As she sat upon the ledge, looking outwards at the gooey blackness—not a star in sight—she began to feel just like the moon. So bright and strong and powerful… yet all alone. And what was the point of being powerful if she didn't have anyone to share it with? She didn't know, she really didn't.

She felt as if she had stared into nothingness for hours, and eventually, her sleep timer managed to catch up with her. Three hours before the designated arrival of her parents, Elsa passed out on the windowsill where she still sat, her face pressed against the glass and smudging it with natural oil. Lucky for her, at least, her general exhaustion had presented her with the gift of a dreamless sleep. Not a nightmare in sight. This would prove as blessing later on. At least she got a few hours peace before she was thrust into the worst experience of her entire life.

She woke, as expected, to the sound of her parent's sharp, loud knock on her door. As they entered without invitation, she arose from her spot on the windowsill, her pale face looking pinker than usual at the thought of being caught in such an embarrassing position. Quickly, Elsa ran to the bathroom to change into her day dress and fix her messy braid. She looked over herself in the full-length mirror, forcing a fake smile to stretch across her face, before hurrying over to her waiting mother and father. They both looked very grim today. Elsa struggled to hold back the gulp in her throat.

Anna must have still been sleeping this morning, for her parents didn't even bother to avoid the main hallways. They trudged gloomily down to the same door that they had led their first-born daughter into yesterday, and her heart pounded in her chest as she followed them, nervously glancing around at the walls.

They marched her straight passed all the dungeons that stretched across the first hallway, even passed her own personal prison, and that allowed Elsa to breathe a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't have to go there anymore. She followed them all the way until the hallway ended, a new one—far emptier than the first— branching off to the right. It didn't even have torches spread out across it to give off light, and Elsa found herself gripping onto her dad's hand so that she didn't veer off or run into a wall or something stupid like that. She may have been far more graceful than Anna, but that didn't mean she didn't have her share of klutz hidden in her DNA.

The hall ended with a single, latched door, and her mother and father stopped dead in their tracks. Her father lit his own personal torch so that they could all see each other. He looked at Elsa deep in her eyes, and in shame of the coldness of her own, she looked away. She could feel his gaze, his judgment, spreading throughout her, and she cringed away in shyness. Unlike Anna, she wasn't much of an attention-lover.

"Elsa, honey," she heard her mother whisper to her, the first word she had spoken the entire way here. "We need you to be strong today, okay? What you're about to see may scare you, but you need to stay strong."

Her father nodded in agreement. "Just remember," he added, "You still have a chance to live a perfectly normal, happy life. There's nothing to worry about. This is only a warning, a reminder, for you to stay on the right track. Your mother and I both love you desperately. Never doubt that."

Elsa nodded, her eyes wide and her entire body tense. How bad _was_ this mystery room? She tried to ease her mind by taking a serious of calming breaths, but no matter what, no relaxation came. She figured she'd just have to tough it out until it was all over. Whenever 'it' happened to be, she could do this.

She watched, almost in emotional detachment, as her father slid a bronze key into the lock on the door. Admiring the way his wrist turned so gracefully, she barely even heard the deadly click as it rang out into the air. She stood stock-still as he pushed away the heavy block of steel—something even stronger than iron, she thought—and followed him, her head down, as he strutted inside. She couldn't process what she saw for a good long time. It was all so much to take in.

The first thing her mind picked up was the smell. It was rank and rancid, stinging her nostrils and causing them to crinkle in disgust. It was a concoction of such a varied mix of scents that her nose could barely even distinguish them all. Sweat, she knew, was rather strong in the aroma. There was also a heavy tint of rotting wood, covered up almost fully by the indistinguishable smell of human waste. And could it be that that was a hint of blood she detected in the air?

Her eyes found the floor, first, and her mind was unsettled at the way the cement below her seemed to be tinted pink, most likely by the continuous contact of a substance that must have been very red to leave such a mark. The skin at her fingertips tingled.

As she raised her head, she discovered where the smell of rotting wood was coming from. Despite the entire room being made up of almost entirely concrete, there was an array of strange, wooden structures splayed out across the empty space, looking almost like a weird little jungle gym. Elsa gawked at all the contraptions. They were all very different sizes, some with wheels, or holes, or levers, or even chains, and all gave her a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. She had no idea what these things were, she'd never seen anything like them before.

Slowly, Elsa turned to her parents. They stood behind her, hands still clasped coldly in their laps, and she saw real guilt in their eyes. She didn't know why. What was there to feel guilty about for a bunch of old toys?

"What is this room?" she asked, gazing around with a strange mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "What are these wood things for?"

Usually her father might have scolded her for using a word as casual and un-queen like as 'things,' but today he didn't seem to be in the mood. He only shook his head sadly, not even bothering to answer her.

"Come on, Elsa dear," her mother suddenly spoke up, and Elsa was shocked to see her eyes shining with unreleased tears. "We're almost there, just follow us."

The girl nodded and let her parents walk ahead of her before following right at their heels. In the emptiness of the giant room, the click of her mother's shoes echoed around and around, and Elsa used that flat, continuous sound to calm her aching nerve. It wasn't such a big deal. Whatever it was, she'd just have to get over it. She knew she could.

As she followed in her parents wake, the boundaries of this gigantic room expanding whenever they turned a corner, the endless pile of contraptions did not cease to surprise and amaze her. She saw ropes hanging from the ceiling in simple little loops. Stone pits dug into the ground that seemed almost endless in depth. Tiny, bared cages that were so small even a child would have to crouch in them. And blades. Lots and lots of blades.

Mother and father had always told Anna and her that knives were dangerous, and so Elsa had never had much of an experience with them, but by the looks of it, her parents were gigantic hypocrites. Whichever servant worked in this place must have loved those sharp, little weapons, because she had never seen so many in all her life. Everywhere she looked she saw a glint of silver in the corner of her vision, all different shapes and styles and sizes. She didn't even know blades came in this many different ways. It was very strange to think that her parents were so fond of them.

The site of all the glinting silver, she found, had filled her with an immaculate, illogical sense of dread, and she found herself gazing down at her shoes rather than have to look at any more of the strange toys surrounding her. Being the princess she was, she was aware that her parents had tried hard to shelter her from a lot of the scarier things in life, and somehow she felt that this was one of those mysterious things. But not anymore. Today her vision of the world around her would get just a little bit clearer.

She knew her parents had arrived at their intended destination almost immediately. She didn't know why, but it was almost as if something in the air changed when they got close to it. As if the fear itself was thick and palpable around them. When she got near enough to sense the presence of another human being standing in the room with them, she was absolutely positive she was where she was meant to be. Slowly, ignoring the way her heart thumped mechanically in her chest, Elsa raised her head.

What she saw first was not much of a surprise. Just a servant. Not as pleasant or as formal-looking as the others that worked in the house—that was for sure—but a servant all the same. He was an old man with barely any hair at all scraping his round head, and he was dressed in the classic guard's ware. Except, of course, that his clothing was covered in an array of mysterious-looking stains. At the moment, Elsa didn't feel like trying to guess what they were from.

Besides the man, what really caught her eye was the pair of feet dangling besides him. Cold, bare feet. They were swinging there helplessly, kicking out every once in a while but otherwise staying relatively still. Elsa did not hesitate to look up and stare at the person they belonged to.

It was a woman. She had long, black, stringy hair, and her arms were raised high above her head, attached to rusting metal chains that hooked to the ceiling. By the way her shoulder blades jutted out, it was clearly not a very comfortable position, but she did barely anything to struggle against them. She must have been hanging there for quite a while, to be being so submissive, and the gaunt, sickly look of her face and body was a pretty big clue that nobody had bothered to feed her during all that time. She had a grimace on her face, and the look of her pained expression was immediately copied onto Elsa's own. She couldn't help it. Whatever was happening to this poor lady was wrong. She knew it was.

"Mama, Papa," she whispered, her voice higher-pitched than usual, "What's going on here?" She hardly ever called her parents 'mama and papa' unless she was really upset, really needed their help. They seemed to understand this, and she could feel them shrink behind her.

"This woman," she heard her father reply in false strength, "Is paying for her crimes, Elsa. Do you have any guesses as to what her crimes could be?"

Crimes? Elsa couldn't imagine how a woman so sad and hopeless looking could have done anything seriously wrong in the past, and even if she had, why would Elsa care? At the moment, all she cared about were the thin, dirty rags draped over her emancipated body. The way her feet were bare and bleeding, nearly black with muck. She wasn't a pretty woman, really. Even without the gauntness of her face, and the smears of grime rubbed upon it, her skin was rather wrinkled and dry, and her nose far too large and bumpy to be considered desirable. But somehow this scene had given her a sort of tragic beauty that could not be ignored, and ignored it was not. Without warning, Elsa felt a wash of love and pity spread upon her as she gazed upwards at the weakened woman. Is _this_ what they did to all the criminals in Arendelle? Is this what they did to all the criminals _everywhere_?

"No, no," Elsa huffed out, almost forgetting that her father had asked her a question. "I don't care what her crimes are. Why is she hanging up there? What are you doing to her?"

"She's getting what she deserves, Elsa."

"No. Please, put her down."

She could practically _feel_ the way her father released his sigh of frustration, his heavy shoulders heaving, but at the moment she cared not a bit. All that mattered was that woman. That dainty, little woman. What were they doing to her?

"Honey," she heard her mother whisper, her voice raspy with sadness. "This prisoner was jailed for witchcraft."

Elsa couldn't process that for a second. Witchcraft? She'd certainly heard that term before, passed between the lips of schoolchildren as they told each other the fascinating, yet disturbing, tales of magic, but never before had it been said to her with such disgust. As if it were some horrible, monstrous thing.

"Witchcraft?" Elsa asked, not even turning around to face who she was talking to. "You mean… she has powers like me?"

"Exactly," her father responded. "Not ice powers, but powers all the same. By the looks of it she'd been hiding them fairly well for a while, but the villagers found out a few days ago and with such a cry of outrage we had no choice but to send her here. We decreed the punishment that they suggested. We had no other option, Elsa; they would have started a riot had we declined."

"W-what exactly did she do?" Her voice was so shaky it was embarrassing.

"They say she was casting spells on them. Cursing their crops so that they wouldn't grow and casting bad luck charms on all the merchants so that their goods wouldn't sell. A child went missing a few days ago, and they claimed she was the one who took him. Used his bones to concoct one of her potions. They were all so riled up… they would've thrown her in the river themselves if I hadn't sentenced her."

Suddenly, from a weak, raspy voice above them, came a croak of protest.

"Lies," hissed the woman, tears dripping down her face. "All lies. Innocent…" She coughed weakly and then went quiet. Elsa hadn't realized she had even been conscious. Her eyes were so dark and empty, it was heartbreaking.

"SILENCE!" screamed the guard below her, so loud his voice shook the entire room. "DO NOT CONTRADICT THE KING, YOU WICKED BEAST!" Without even hesitating, he grabbed her legs and yanked hard. The sound of her shoulder blades cracking was just barely audible beneath the woman's cry of pain. Elsa shuddered on the spot, and her eyes filled with cold water.

"See!" she exclaimed. "She said she's innocent! It's all just a misunderstanding! Just let her go!"

"Elsa, princess," her father whispered, coming up closer to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I can't do that. Whether she did it or not, the child was kidnapped, and someone needs to pay. Unfortunately for her, the village chose her to be that person. But that's just the way life is sometimes. Its unfair."

Elsa couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around all this. It just didn't make any logical sense. She had thought—was _sure_—that the only people who were arrested were _actual _criminals. People who had commited real crimes and were too dangerous to be left running loose. But this? It was insane! Why punish someone if you didn't even know they were guilty or not? Elsa couldn't let this happen… she just couldn't!

"Why did you even bring me here?" she moaned, not taking her eyes off of the victim. "Why are you even showing me this? Please stop it. Please, I'm begging you."

"Elsa, we can't do that," her mother replied, her voice as soft as a flower. "Your father and I agreed that this would be the only way to make clear to you the true dangers of failing to hold back your powers. I know this is hard for you... but it's the only way."

Her father, satisfied with that explanation, turned to the servant standing silently by and released the three short words that would repeat in Elsa's nightmares every night for the next three years of her life.

"Begin the execution."

Execution. In Elsa's opinion, it was the most horrible word that had ever existed.

The servant nearly seemed to smile as he leaned backwards and picked up a long, thin strip of cloth behind him. Elsa had never seen one in person before, but she knew enough to understand that it was a whip. And that getting hit with it hurt… a lot.

The first time the strip of leather was raised into the air, Elsa did nothing. She just stood completely still and watched, in almost robotic like attention, as the man swung it towards the woman's back. There was a loud, deafening crack, and her screams broke out into the air, high-pitched and painful. Elsa gasped, stepping backwards. Somehow, even with all those other noises surrounding her, she could still hear her heartbeat loud and consistent in her ear.

"Stop, please stop this," she murmured, voice static and emotionless. "Let her down. Now."

"No Elsa," one of her parent's responded. She couldn't tell which, her mind was in too much of a flurry, but at the moment she didn't really care. The whip swung down again and lashed against the woman. She struggled harshly against the chains, tilting her head up and screaming towards the heavens. This time, Elsa's own voice mingled with her own.

"Stop it!" she yelled, frantic this time. "Please stop! I can't take this, just stop!"

"Elsa, please, you can handle it. We know you can."

As the third strike found its mark, Elsa let her gaze linger and spotted the way the woman's filthy rags were beginning to slowly soak through with a thick, red liquid. They ran across the fabric in cracked, jagged lines. Like crevices in the earth. Cracks in ice. Elsa couldn't breathe.

"No, no, no I can't handle this, I can't do it," her voice was halfway between a sob and a scream, so cracked that it was barely even distinguishable as her own. "I'll do anything… please. Just let her go."

"We're sorry, princess, but she's only getting what she deserves."

A fourth and a fifth strike attacked the woman's fragile skin. Then a sixth and a seventh and an eighth. Each was attached to a bloodcurdling scream, none any less frightening than the last. Elsa could practically _feel_ the way the woman's skin must have stung as the force of the blow stretched across her back. The soft, warm feel of blood as it flowed down the curves of her body. The vibrations of the whip as its power traveled right through to her very bones. She wanted it to end, she wanted it so badly she could barely breathe. But she knew it wouldn't. They would just keep lashing the woman, over and over and over again, until her frail little body gave way into itself and the life seeped out of her magical soul. She was going to die no matter what. At this revelation, Elsa's fingers burned. She hadn't even noticed the strong sensation of tingling that had been traveling down her spine for the past few minutes. She looked at her feet and saw the way the stone beneath her was already beginning to freeze over, the ice already having broken through the soles of her shoes. This couldn't be good.

"Fine," Elsa whimpered, tears blurring her vision to the extent that she could see nothing but a blob of depressing shapes. "FINE! But if you're going to do this, just let me out of here! I can't watch this! I really, really can't! Just let me out!"

"Elsa, please, you can do this. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show."

It was her father speaking that time, she could just tell. He was trying to reassure her. She didn't care. Nothing he said could reassure her ever again. Elsa backed up against the wall, her hand brushing momentarily against the stone behind her. She was wearing her newly-improved gloves, but it almost didn't seem to matter. She had never experienced so much emotional trauma in all her life, not even with Anna. These gloves stood no chance.

The lashes kept raining down on the woman's back, her screams continuing to echo throughout the silent room. It would never end. Never, ever, ever end. Elsa felt the way her frost began to climb up the wall, slide across the floor. It was spreading like wildfire in a forest of oak, like a disease in a tenant crammed with people. She couldn't hold it in. _She couldn't hold it in!_

"Elsa," her father scolded, backing away to avoid the spreading sheets of ice. "Stop this at once! Control yourself!"

"I can't!" she shrieked, her voice as shrill as a bird's. "Just stop this! Just end this! Please, I'm begging you, I can't do this anymore!" She was hyperventilating now. Every breath she released was flecked with particles of snow. By the way her parents shivered in the corner, she could tell the temperature in the room must have lowered considerably. There was so much ice on the wall and floor around her it looked as if an igloo had exploded in the corner.

"ELSA!" her father yelled right back, his voice clearly trying to sound angry but ending up with more than a tint of desperation. "You need to learn to deal with this right now! Do you want to end up like her!?"

The words. The lash. The scream. The trembling. The burning. The pain. The ice.

Did she want to end up like her? No, no she didn't.

But it looked like she didn't have a choice.

And that was when it had happened. So quick and powerful and unannounced, it literally knocked Elsa off her feet. She'd never known she held that much power. It terrified her even more.

As she had stood there, cowering in the corner, she had exploded. Literally. That was the only word that seemed to fit. An immense stream of her icy powers had erupted from her fingers, shooting across the room as fast as a bullet and as large as an ocean wave. Everything it passed turned to an icy, shining blue. Her parents just narrowly missed standing in its path. The servant jumped out of the way just in time. The woman, however, could do nothing but continue to sob in her rusting chains. She didn't even see it coming. Elsa figured it was better that way.

When the girl looked up, her back aching as it had been flung against the wall, she caught sight of the work she had created. The woman, now held to the ceiling by chains of a slick, translucent material, was now completely frozen. Her body was carved fully of ice, an expression of complete pain stretched across her translucent features. But it didn't matter anymore, because that woman's pain was gone now. Her expression was only evidence of the crimes that had been done to her. Evidence of how she had suffered.

She may have looked gruesome before, but under the dim lighting of the cellar, the woman's icy skin sparkling in a thousand different ways, she looked absolutely ravishing. A mere picture of innocence and beauty. Ice, Elsa realized, made everything beautiful. Often in the most horrible of ways.

As she sat there, paralyzed at what she had done, her parents had stared at her, looks of shock and fear plaguing their faces. They were afraid of her, she realized. Only now did they understand her true power. Only now could they really see just how impossible it was for her to hold back. They had to. She had shown them, proved to them, that no matter how hard she pushed it inside, her power always pushed a thousand times harder. There was no way she could win.

As Elsa tore her eyes away from her parents, she gazed once more at the sadness of her creation. She looked at all its beautiful, elegant curves, a well of pain beginning to build up inside her. The poor woman did not deserve to be hung up by those perilous chains any longer. Without a moment's thought, Elsa cracked the ice above her. What once bound her had fallen away. For a second, her frozen body seemed almost to be suspended in midair, then it came crashing to the ground. It split into a thousand separate pieces. Shards of ice splattered everywhere.

_Good_, Elsa thought. _Now she's finally at rest. Finally free. I just wish she could've taken me with her._

Without thinking, Elsa pushed herself up from the ground. It was slippery with ice, but somehow she did not struggle to regain her balance. Within seconds she was standing straight and tall in the corner of the room. The center of attention.

She looked at her parents. Her mother had an expression of pure shock and fear painted upon her beautiful face. Her father's was merely a mix of blinding fury and tingling disappointment. Elsa gazed at them for only a second. She could not stand to look at them, those horrible emotions in their eyes, for any longer. In an instant, without so much as a second thought, she'd turned and ran. Ran as far and as fast as she could. She didn't look back once.

As her feet pounded against the cold, cement ground, the sounds of her footsteps shattering the silence and echoing around and around in the large room, Elsa barely felt as her own frozen tears began to glide down face, leaving invisible lines of frost against her cheeks. Her parents weren't following her just yet, but she knew by experience that she was trailing a path of ice behind her. Wherever she went, it was only a matter of time before they would catch up to her. She ran anyway.

Before long, she had reached the heavy, steel door that had brought her here. She didn't even try to pull it open herself. Instead she stuck out her hands, and in a single pulse of anger, a mound of ice pushed from her fingers and knocked that chunk of metal right off its sockets. What did it matter anymore? After what she'd already done today, it was practically nothing.

As she strutted through the gaping hole in the wall, she heard her father shout, from somewhere out of her line of sight, "Elsa, come back!" She paid his voice no attention. If anything, she ran a little faster.

Her mind was swimming with too many emotions to process. So many that even as her chest heaved from running up the hundreds of steps to the main floor of the castle, her body screaming for oxygen, she didn't slow down a bit. Somehow, she couldn't even remember how, she ended up crouched against the smooth, marble wall of the ballroom. Her back slid all the way down it until she was sitting on the floor, her knees pressed against her chest and her head curled downwards. She pushed her hands to her face and trembled for the longest time, tears rolling silently down her cheeks and soaking her beautiful, hand-made dress. She didn't even care. Didn't even notice. Nothing mattered anymore.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sobbing there, alone, when she heard footsteps coming up in front of her. For some strange reason, she wished they were Anna's. She didn't want to speak to either of her parent's right now, and the prospect of someone finally seeing things her way—for Anna surely would, there was no doubt—was just too beautiful to bear. But no, when the male voice rang out into the chill of the room, Elsa knew that it most definitely did not belong to her little sister.

"Elsa..." her father began, his voice hollow with shock. "W-what have you done?"

He was probably speaking about the trails of ice she had left lying around the house. Up here, Anna could be anywhere, and she knew perfectly well that the girl was not to find out about any of this. Usually this would've concerned her, but not today. There wasn't any real risk to it, anyway, as it seemed that Anna was still deep in her princess-like slumber. Elsa wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that her sister was such a late riser.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice cracked with tears. "I don't know anything anymore."

Almost soundlessly, she felt as her father stepped closer to her. He turned his back to the wall and slid himself right down next to her frail body, his hand resting comfortably atop her knee. She wanted to shrink away from him, wanted to scream at him to leave her alone, to truly hate his guts with every ounce of her being, yet for some reason, she just couldn't. For some reason, from the very stem of her soul, she loved her father with everything she was. And she just couldn't let that go. In an instant, she had collapsed into him, pressing her head into his chest and flooding his royal robes with her tears. She had held those beads of water in for so long, but now they were finally out. She couldn't say she was surprised.

"I'm so sorry, Papa," she cried, her voice quivering like a child's. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't take it. But why? Why did you show me that? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO HER?"

Her father just shook his head, one hand stroking her long, white hair.

"Its alright, Elsa," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the wall. "It's all alright. Your mother and I were only trying to help you. We shouldn't have… it was too soon. But its alright, just calm down now, okay? Just calm down, stop crying, it's all going to be alright."

At his request, Elsa lifted her head, sniffing silently and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She probably looked like a mess right now. Her hair flying out of her once-neat braid and her eyes all puffy and red. But at the moment, her appearance was the least of her worries.

"I'm alright," she repeated, shaking away her despair. "I am."

Her father gave her a very weak smile. "Good girl," he replied, causing her to beam at him. "Now, the servants need to scrape down the ice you made before Anna wakes up. But in the meanwhile, and I hate to say this, I'm going to need you out of the way."

Elsa nodded in understanding. "That's fine," she said, "I'll just go up to my room. I promise; I won't come out until I feel like I can control myself again."

To her surprise, her father only hung down his head and shook it sadly.

"I'm afraid that's too much of a risk, princess," he whispered, and before Elsa could even process what was happening, two large guards had come out of nowhere and hoisted her to her feet, shoving newly stitched gloves onto her hands.

"W-what?" She gasped in horror. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, but… we're going to have to confine you to your, um, 'special room' until the adrenaline runs from your system."

Elsa was speechless. He couldn't possibly be talking about her dungeon… could he?

"B-but," she stuttered, the tears beginning to sting again. "I-I can't—"

"I'm sorry, Elsa," he said again, this time louder. "But this is the way it has to be for now. Don't worry, I'll come get you in an hour or so when I'm sure you're calm."

He turned to face the guards.

"Take her away," he demanded, and they did just that.

Within fifteen minutes, Elsa was once again introduced to that familiar, snowflake doorway. As she entered, her gloves were peeled off and her hands shoved deep inside those metal cups. She felt them click and lock around her wrists, the chains banging together as she pulled against them, and she cried out when she saw the guards shuffling out of her empty prison.

"Please!" she called to them, desperation in her voice. "Don't leave me!"

The first guard looked at her with an expression of cold stone, as if she were some sort of monster, and she looked away in heavy shame. The other, however, had kinder eyes, almost sympathetic, and he said to her guiltily, "I'm sorry, princess," before he walked out and shut the door behind him, leaving her, once again, all alone.

Almost immediately, Elsa felt a well of panic beginning to build up in the pit of her stomach. Alone and trapped, alone and trapped, alone and trapped. She'd rather be anywhere in the entire world than in this cage, she was sure of it.

Inevitably, she watched as a vein of frost began to crawl up the metal cups on her hands without her trying, turning the metallic gray to a cool blue. She waited, her heart in a swirl of hope and fear, for her ice to spread up the chains and crumble them away into a pile of icy crystals. Instead, however, as fast as they had appeared, the particles of frozen water melted right away. Elsa was surprised. She tried again, this time shooting the frost on purpose, but once again it all melted. Something was happening here. This wasn't right.

As she gazed across the room, it didn't take her long to spot the thin, rectangular slits cut high up into the stone wall. From where she sat, sprawled on the hard ground, Elsa could still feel the soft push of the air that came from it. She couldn't quite tell what temperature it was, but she had the feeling that the air it blew was very, very hot. She remembered the way the guards had pushed back beads of sweat that had clung to their foreheads when they had locked her up. She hadn't noticed it then, but now it suddenly came back to her, seeming a thousand times more important. That slit was a vent. There must have been a furnace on the other side of that wall. Her parents had put it there to melt her powers.

That was smart, Elsa thought to herself as she let go of any thoughts she'd had about escape. Very, very smart. If only she could carry a furnace with her wherever she when, then all her problems would be over.

Her mind now feeling comfortably numb, Elsa leaned her head down on the floor and curled up into a tight ball. The stone was extremely rough and hard, but the bed-frame still hadn't been cushioned, so it was all she had. Slowly, her heartbeat once again loud and consistent in her ear, Elsa's eyelids stuck closed, and she fell asleep to the comforting thought that the worst was over. Her life could get nothing but better from here on out.

If only she knew how wrong she was…

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><p><strong>Well, that was it... I worked really hard on this chapter, but since its so long, I'm sure there are plenty of mistakes in there, and its not really written as well as it could have been. Still, I'm really proud of it, and I'm super excited to write more. I have plenty of more ideas, one's even better than this one, and I seriously can't wait to write them. Please, if you liked this chapter (and even if you didn't) review! I just want to know that people are reading the things I write. What do you guys think... should I continue?<strong>

**Oh, and btw, the reason Elsa couldn't break through her chains in this chapter, but she could in the movie, is because Elsa's powers get a lot stronger as she grows. At the age she's at now, she's simply not strong enough to break through.**

**Anyway... I hope you liked it! I'll try to update as soon as I can ;)**


	4. The Servant

**Hey there everyone! Its me, here with a new update!**

**Let me start off, again, by thanking you all for the wonderful reviews! Some of the comments you leave are not only very nice, but extremely insightful, and you really are all a great help. Just putting it out there, I'm seriously always open to suggestions, and though I may not use them right away, feel free to throw some out there if you're looking for something :).**

**Okay, so in this chapter, three years has passed since the last incident, and Elsa is now 14. I'll be completely honest with you... this chapter isn't all that interesting. Mostly its just a transitioning chapter, to help me get from one place to another. I'm mainly just introducing a new OC character, and to be honest, I have no idea how I managed to make it even LONGER than my last chapter. Anyway, though this one isn't great, I promise you the next chappie will be awesome. This is just necessary for the next one to make sense.**

**Well, what are you waiting for? You may begin reading ;).**

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><p>When Queen Elsa looks back on her childhood life, the year she turned fourteen seems to be a lifetime in and of itself. It was, in her opinion, the year that all the years before it had been building up too, just waiting and waiting and waiting for that specific chance to make her boil over. It was at that delicate age, the line between child and adult, when she reached a turning point in not only her adolescence, but in her frame of mind, and her life spiraled off into an entirely new, twisted direction. Some might have called it just a simple phase of teenage rebellion, but Elsa has always known better.<p>

She figures, really, that it all started the day that _he_ was hired.

It was barely a month after Elsa's birthday on that certain day, which of course would make it the beginning of winter. She had been born no less than fourteen years ago on December 21st, the exact day of the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere. Whether or not that date was related to her powers in any way, Elsa could only guess. Still, it pleased her to think that the beginning of her, was the beginning of winter.

The nightmares that had started nearly six years before were still plaguing her mind practically every single night she slept, and if anything, Elsa found that they were only getting worse. She would close her eye for one little moment, and suddenly she was in her own personal dungeon, rotting away all alone as she cried and pulled hopelessly against the metal chains that bound her. The tortured woman would present herself quite often in these dreams, her skin a freezing blue as she released a non-stop, earsplitting scream from the ceiling on which she hung, and Elsa's parents would sometimes stand behind her, looking at their daughter with expressions of fear and hate, yelling that she was a monster and deserved the same punishment. Always, however, little Anna would never miss a dream, carved perfectly in ice and sleeping in the corner, forever five years old.

It had gotten to the point where Elsa would wake up with not only her bed completely frozen over, but practically half her room. Elsa had learned how to quiet her screams at night, and she did a very good job teaching herself to cry in silence, but the ice she released was simply one thing that she knew she'd never be able to get under control. After many months insisting she learn how to deal with the nighttime chills, her parents had finally given in and assigned one of their oldest, most reliable servants to go on, what they liked to call, 'Elsa watch.' Not only was it his job to change her sheets and thaw her bed-frame as he'd done many times before, but he'd practically have to scrape down her entire room each morning, bringing her her meals and doing whatever else she wanted so that she could leave her room as little as possible. He and a few select others were the only one's who were let into the girl's horrifying secret. It was safer that way.

The first person to have this job was a little old man named Herbert. Herbert was an ancient, gray-haired fellow who could have been no younger than eighty-five years old. He had worked for Elsa's royal family for over sixty years, apparently, and her father even claimed that he had been the man to change his diapers as a toddler. To be completely honest, Herbert was painfully slow at nearly everything he tried to do, and often he brought her her dinner cold, but still she found herself growing quite a liking to him. He had this timid voice and a sweet little smile, and each day when he came to scrape down the ice he would always remark kindly, "Good morning, Miss Elsa." He was the only servant in the entire castle that actually called her by her first name rather than just referring to her as 'princess,' and she found herself actually quite enjoying that. Practically three times a week he would tell her 'what a fine young woman she was growing up to be,' and Elsa constantly found herself turning pink at this statement no matter how many times it was repeated, just proud that at least one person in that entire damn place didn't look at her as if she were some sort of monster.

She liked Herbert, but he was not the servant that changed her life.

One day, when she had been sitting at her desk expecting the old man to come along any minute or so, she heard a surprisingly formal knock ring out from the other side of her doorway. To her great surprise, it was not kind, old Herbert who hobbled in, but her very own mother and father. They sat her down on her windowsill and told her calmly that Herbert had died in his sleep the night before.

She hadn't known the man well, really, but it still made her sad. Death was always depressing, and the idea that she would never hear his soft, shy voice refer to her as 'Miss Elsa' again was enough to make her hang her head down in grievance. She could not attend the public funeral, as too many of the public were set to be there, but back in her room she held a ceremony of her own. Though she knew perfectly well that she wasn't supposed to, Elsa wrote Herbert's name out of ice on her bedroom wall. When she was done, she took his favorite ice-scrapper and tore it all away, going out onto her bedroom porch and releasing the frozen crystals into the wind. As she watched them float away, she said a silent thanks to the deceased man, and then slowly walked right back inside the comfort of her own room. She did not shed a single tear for him. After what she'd seen, she was doubtful anything could make her cry again.

Not even three hours after the funeral her parents once again entered her room, explaining to her that since Herbert had been of such great service, his next available kin would be hired in his place. Herbert had a grandson whose name was, apparently, Benson, and he just-so-happened to be looking for a new line of work. He had been a stable boy for nobel families since he was practically ten years old, and though he was inexperienced in the area of personal service, her parents claimed he was quite well-mannered and hardworking, and surely he would catch on quick. Elsa had merely nodded during their entire speech, pretending to listen as she received the first description of the man who would change everything for her. In all honesty, at that moment she didn't really care. All she hoped was that he wouldn't call her princess all the time. That tended to get fairly annoying after a while.

She first met Benson three days after the death of Herbert, and as mentioned before, nearly a month after her fourteenth birthday. He had knocked on her door not firm and formally like her parents, or quiet and politely like Herbert, but nervously. As if his fists were nearly shaking when he tapped. This caused Elsa to give a silent, inward groan. _Great_, she thought to herself mournfully, he hadn't even met her yet, and _already _he was terrified of her. Her parents must have only just reveled the secret of her mysterious powers to him, and he probably thought she was going to freeze him solid or something stupid like that. _Lovely__. _

"You may enter," Elsa had called as she sat on her windowsill, her legs crossed delicately as her loosest blue dress fluttered around her, somehow still tight around the chest. Elsa, being her teenage self, had begun to develop nearly a year ago, and as her chest swelled to that of a woman's, she had started noticing stares from a lot of the younger guards whenever she dared to leave her room. The looks they gave her, of what she knew could only be attraction, made her feel incredibly uncomfortable, and soon she found herself constantly crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to hide the obvious… but it was no use. Her entire body, now, was composed of very intricate, woman-like curves, and not even the loosest of her dresses could hide them. It was incredibly embarrassing. Puberty was annoying.

As Benson slowly pushed open the door, Elsa caught her first glimpse of her new servant. He didn't look at all like she had expected, though in all honesty, she hadn't really expected anything to begin with. His appearance just surprised her, that's all.

For starters, the man had hair darker than any she remembered seeing in her little kingdom of Arendelle, the kind that swept over his green eyes in a way that screamed adolescence rather than maturity, and his skin was shaded bronze to such an extent that she wasn't sure whether it was due to genetics or was just an excessive tan. He had a plain face that was easy to overlook, but it held a sort of handsomeness to it if you observed it closely enough, and it fit well with his tall, broad-shouldered body. Elsa had met a few stable boys in her time, so she was not surprised at all with his sculpted qualities that often came with the job. She had, however, expected him to be a quite a lot older. He seemed rather young to be a servant, especially in a castle such as this.

Once he had closed the door behind him, Benson had finally allowed himself to gaze fully at the girl before him, and immediately his eyes went wide, a twinkle shining from within them. Before she could stop him, he had leaned forward in a polite, admiring bow.

"Good day, my princess," he said in a formal voice, "My grandfather has told me often of your incredible beauty, but I must admit, his kind words are nothing compared to the stunning image that sits before me now."

Elsa had been called beautiful plenty of times before, usually by a passing servant or guard, but also during the slim chances when her parents had been confident enough in her stability to allow her to meet a fellow king or queen that they were trying to impress. This, of course, allowed her to understand that when a person complimented another, they were usually only trying to flatter and impress, and there was little to no truth behind their words. Benson, however, had an air about him that said otherwise. When he raised himself from his bow, his eyes were shining like diamonds, and the crooked smile on his face made her feel as if the compliment were actually genuine. The nervousness she had sensed before, she realized, was not because he was afraid of her... but because he was actually _excited _to meet her, and was worried about saying or doing something wrong. Suddenly, to her own distaste, Elsa felt herself flush.

"Thank you, Benson," she said kindly, making sure to keep up that formal façade that her parents had imprinted in her so well, "And my condolences to your grandfather. He was truly a great man. May his memory live on."

At this, the servant smiled, clearly taken aback that Elsa had liked his grandfather, or even known his own name for that matter. "Yes, princess, thank you," he said way too fast, with way too much excitement in his voice to be proper. Elsa found herself smiling at this. After all those years of having to deal with annoying formalities whenever she had the chore of meeting someone, this was a nice break. It reminded her, almost, of Anna. No matter how hard her sister tried, she simply couldn't pull off that 'graceful' look all princesses were supposed to have. It was a funny comparison, but thinking about Anna merely made her depressed, so Elsa quickly drew her thoughts back to the present.

After she had handed Benson the ice-scrapper he was supposed to use on her bedroom wall, Elsa once again made herself comfortable on her window ledge, watching him work with a tinge of curiosity. The way he looked at her ice, his eyes as bright as stars, she could just tell that he was impressed, his mind brimming with thousands of questions. Father most definitely did not encourage conversations with the help, but for some reason or another, Elsa couldn't help but just be dying to have one.

"If you don't mind me asking," she began slowly, loving the way his ears seemed to perk up at the sound of her voice, "How old are you, Benson? You seem quite young to be a servant… are you not?"

At this, the boy gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm nineteen, princess," he replied honestly, rubbing the back of his neck at the admition that he was only five years older than she was herself, "And yes, I am young to be working here. My grandfather was supposed to retire when I turned twenty-five, so that I could be old enough to take his place, but as you saw, it didn't exactly work out that way."

Elsa nodded slowly, understanding. It was the same with her, being the king and queen's first-born daughter. When she turned thirty her parents were supposed to automatically pass on the throne to her. However, if something happened to her parents before then—though nothing ever would, she was sure of it—her coronation day would be moved to the same year of her twenty-first birthday, no matter if she was ready or not.

The girl watched in silence for a few more minutes, waiting until she felt prompted to speak up again. She didn't know why, but the way the servant looked at her, as if she were an actual, interesting human being rather than just a stuck-up princess or some kind of disgusting monstrosity, was enough to make her want to talk to him all day. It was… strange. It had been forever since she'd had an actual, casual conversation with another person. It was as if she practically _thirsted _for it.

"Were you… close?" Elsa blurted out suddenly, losing the formality that she had previously held in her voice, "I mean, you and your grandfather. Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

Benson didn't even seem taken aback by the odd amount of personal aspects hidden inside this question. He just seemed happy to have a reason to talk to her.

"Oh yeah, me and Herb were real close," he replied, nodding as he worked to scrape off a particularly stubborn patch of ice, "My parents both died pretty young, so he's the one who raised me. He's a good man, you know. We were poor, but he educated me well, and taught me a lot about how to act around rich folk. We both worked a lot, but we always found a chance to talk during the day. I can't really ask for more than that."

Elsa nodded slowly, suddenly extremely interested in what Benson had to say. She noticed, quite clearly, how as soon as she had dropped the formality in her voice, he had dropped his. He was talking to her as if she were just some random villager asking him some random question. She was surprised at just how open he seemed with her. It was strange, yet exhilarating, being treated like a normal person.

"Its sad that he passed," Elsa remarked, wondering if it meant that he was all alone now, "Do you have any other relatives? Anybody else that you live with?"

He only shook his head, but not in a sad way. In a wise way, almost, though she didn't quite understand why.

"Not that I know of," he replied, shrugging, "What about you, princess? Is it just your little sis and your parents, or do you have others out there?"

This was his little way of trying to find out whether it was okay if he asked her questions, too. Elsa had no objections to this, and she did not hesitate to show it.

"I've got loads of cousins, apparently, but I've never really met any of them."

Elsa would never, under any other circumstances, mutter the word 'loads' between her lips. It just wasn't a word that was in her vocabulary. It was so casual and teenage-like and just… not her. But in this instance, with the way this man was talking, she was afraid that if she didn't make herself sound more normal, he was going to go right back to treating her like royalty. She didn't want that, not at all.

"I see. I take it that you and your sister must have been very close back then, since all you really had was each other. Your parents told me how you're not supposed to interact with her much anymore. I don't know why, but I assume it's got something to do with your powers, and for that, princess, I must say that I am deeply sorry. It must get lonely, being up here all by yourself for so long."

Elsa was taken aback by his sudden change of topic. One second, she was telling him she had cousins. The next, he was bringing up the undeniable surge of loneliness that she had been fighting with for nearly half of her lifetime. For a brief moment, she felt like snapping at him. Telling him to mind his own business and to get back to his work. Luckily, she caught herself just in time.

"Um… yes. I guess you could say that."

At the uncertainty of her words, Benson looked up. He gave her a smile that seemed almost guilty.

"Sorry, princess. I went too far."

Elsa only shook her head. His words were surprising, but not entirely unwanted. She _was_ lonely, she couldn't deny that. And he seemed like he was the perfect solution to that problem. Didn't he?

"No, no. It's fine," she replied hurriedly, tucking a strand of snow-white hair behind her ear to hide the awkwardness, "I'm just… not much of a conversationalist, that's all. You'll have to forgive me for that. I'm just not used to such personal questions."

He nodded, and his eyes screamed sympathy. "Quite all right, princess," he replied, finishing off the remainder of the ice on one side of the wall, "Understandable."

Elsa couldn't find a way to reply to that, and soon the room had drifted into a very comfortable sort of silence. She watched as the man finished up his work, and then pushed himself up from the floor of which he sat, dusting off his slacks. She couldn't help but notice the pinkness of his cheeks and fingers, and she wondered guiltily what temperature her room was. He must have been freezing.

"I'm finished," Benson finally breathed, placing his new ice scraper gently into one of his pockets, "I'll be back in an three hours or so to bring you lunch. Or, if you'd prefer, I can go pick you up a late breakfast."

"I think I'll just skip breakfast for the day, thank you," Elsa replied, smiling at him as warmly as she could muster.

"Very well then," he muttered as he made his way over to the door, "Good day then, princess."

As the door swung open, and her servant began to make his way out of it, Elsa suddenly felt the unexplainable urge to correct him.

"Benson?" she said quietly just as the door slammed shut. At first she was worried he hadn't heard her, but then he pushed it back open again, looking backwards over his shoulder as if he were still in the middle of leaving.

"Yes, princess?"

"Don't call me princess. My name is Elsa."

At this a mischievous smile bloomed across his face, and she knew with a sudden burst of pride that she had impressed him.

"Of course, Elsa."

And with that he shut the door and was gone.

…

The next few months simply flew by for Elsa, and she found herself, quite to her own surprise, actually enjoying them. Everyday Benson would come and visit her—by choice, she liked to think, as well as necessity—and she had to admit, he was good company. That wasn't saying much, considering the fact that every human being would have been good company to a girl living in isolation, but still. She liked him.

Besides Benson, only about five other servants knew of Elsa's mysterious powers, and none of them had ever made such a good impression on her. Two of them were the guards whose job it was to drag her into her dungeon whenever she got out of control, and of course she'd never liked those guys much. One was her personal tutor, who taught her everything from advanced trigonometry to how to play complicated melodies on the piano, yet was constantly scooting away from her on the bench, as if she held some sort of infectious disease. Elsa couldn't forget the guard in charge of the torture chamber, the one who had seen her wild powers in action only three years before, but heaven knew she didn't feel too positively about him. And then there was that one nasty maid who had occasionally helped Herbert scrape out her bedroom, and whose eyes always seemed to be locked in a permanent death glare. Out of all of these people, Benson was the one and only who didn't seem to be mortally terrified of her. In fact, he had let her know multiple times that her powers fascinated him. This simple statement never failed to both stun and amaze her. The only person who had ever seemed to be impressed by her powers was Anna, and she knew that those days were long gone.

Benson had had a pretty fixed schedule at first. He would come into Elsa's room at around the same time each morning to scrape the ice, bringing breakfast for her to munch on while she waited, and then leave half an hour later. Later on in the day, he'd bring her lunch and dinner, but that would be all. Three times a day he'd visit, and three times a day he'd leave. That wasn't nearly enough, in Elsa's opinion.

She began to strike up conversations with him. They were subtle, at first. Just small talk, words laced with manners and simple formalities in the way she had grown accustomed to, but in only a matter of time she began to tell him things. Things she knew she probably shouldn't have, but she did it anyway, just for the heck of it. She told him, mostly, a lot about her old relationship with Anna. That was the only subject that wasn't too touchy for her. She'd go on and on about the things they used to do together, retelling funny stories and watching him laugh with real amusement in his eyes. Soon, she found, his thirty-minute morning visits had stretched to an hour, and instead of just delivering lunch and dinner, he was joining her for it. She never realized just how much fun it was to open up. To talk and laugh and just… not be afraid for once in her life. Just like every other normal person in the entire known world. She missed being a normal person, though in retrospect, she knew she'd never really been one to begin with.

She had started their little chats with the full intention of keeping them on that nice, happy, friendly level. The stories she told him were all quite pleasant, very bright and colorful and joyous, and just all around enjoyment. The darker memories were things, she figured, that needed to be kept to herself. There was no use in sharing her pain with another. That was selfish. Sharing her joy was better for the both of them.

That, at least, _had _been the plan, until Benson had all of the sudden decided to start filling her in on some of his own stories. Though at first he had been slightly uncertain about losing _all_ his formalities, it didn't take long for him to plunge her into the position of, what she hoped, was a friend. He started off with telling her those same positive stories, describing the pleasant childhood memories that had occurred between him and Herbert, but as time wore on, his tales began to turn a bit more gruesome. He told her about the struggles of being born so poor. How, before he was forced to get a job at the age of ten, he and Herbert had barely enough income coming in to pay for food, and he had often found himself surviving off one slice of bread and a single cup of milk a day. He explained the hardships of being a stable boy, the way he often had to spend hours a day walking knee-deep in horse manure, his hands raw and blistered from scooping it all out. He even, surprisingly, opened up to her about Herbert's very recent funeral, describing how uncertain and bleak his future had looked before her parents had offered him the much higher-paying job of being a castle servant. In all honesty, Elsa was at first a little overwhelmed by all the information he was supplying her. She simply didn't know how to handle a friend anymore; it had been so long since she'd had one. Gradually, however, she found herself not only getting used to it, but almost taking a liking to it.

She knew, deep down, that the reason he was telling her these deep stories was because he wanted her to share her own. He must have realized that all her happy memories occurred no less than six years ago, must have sensed that there was something more to her life that she wasn't telling him about. So he was egging her on, urging her to share her pain with him. She tried hard to hold back, but the more he pushed, the harder it became. She was unsure, worried, confused. But inevitably, she did eventually begin to spill. She couldn't help it. Her mind was aching.

She told him, first, about the incident with Anna. About the reason she was stuck up in her room in the first place. Of course, as she expected, he had sympathized with her. Told her it wasn't her fault, that it was only a child's mistake, that she shouldn't hold herself accountable for what had all turned out all right in the end. She had only nodded solemnly, lacking enough enthusiasm to let him know that she didn't exactly agree.

On a roll, and unable to slow her speeding tongue, she began to tell him about all the times Anna had come knocking on her door since then, begging her to go out and build a snowman, and how difficult it was to say no each time. She, uncomfortably, admitted to the loneliness of being confided to one little room, and even filled him in on the details about her personal dungeon that even now lay beneath her, waiting for her body to once again turn it cold. Talking was painful yet refreshing, and once she started, she just couldn't stop. It seemed, almost, that she had finally gotten everything off her chest.

That was, if she hadn't been holding back. There was one specific story that had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks now, ever since she'd met him, yet she had no intention of ever letting it free. Telling her new confident about the torture chamber, about the way the poor woman had been hung and whipped like a savage animal, and the icy blast that had ended her, was something she just couldn't bare to pull out into the open. It was as if saying it all out loud would have made it all real. At that moment in her life, it all still sort of felt like a long-lasting, terrifying nightmare. Horrible and gruesome, but merely a fantasy replaying in her brain. Her parents did not do that, that woman did not die. It just wasn't real. She refused to bring it out into the open and make it so. And besides, she decided Benson didn't need to share her pain on that one. He had done plenty already. She owed him more than enough. The gratitude she felt was astounding.

All in all, Elsa had to admit that she was the happiest she had been since the incident that had started this whole mess. Benson, she felt, was practically her older brother. He looked nothing like her, with his dark hair and skin contrasting brilliantly against her pale one's, but the way he acted around her, so casual and protective and kind, was just how she imagined a brother would. This, of course, exhilarated her. She felt as if she hadn't had a sibling in years, and to suddenly be thrust right back into that lovely, magical relationship gave her a feeling so warm in her chest that she was surprised it didn't melt her. Of course, he was no Anna, but he was as good a replacement as any, and for one wonderful year, he filled up that missing piece in her heart. Such a shame he couldn't have kept it filled for longer.

…

The day things began to take a turn for the dangerous was, at first, a day that seemed rather innocent. The small kingdom of Arendelle was just beginning to warm for spring, and passerby children were constantly stopping outside the castle walls to gawk at the beautiful bud-covered trees that had been planted all along its base. Elsa enjoyed watching them from the safety of her own window, smiling at their smiles, laughing at their laughs. Children were cute, she thought to herself. How she longed to be one of them.

As she had sat there, watching and wishing and longing, Benson was having quite an interesting encounter with a child himself. A child he, somehow, hadn't even met until that very moment.

Of course he'd seen Anna a couple of times before, wandering the empty hallways with a look of boredom, and usually mischief, stretched across her pretty little face, but never before had he given her a second glance. She was a cute girl, really, but he'd always found himself drawn to the mysterious. To the emotional, and the deep, and the dangerous. Cute just didn't cut it for him. That was why he spent so much time with Elsa. At the age she was now, she no longer held that childlike cuteness, but with so much intelligence dancing from her eyes, that empty space was more than filled with her daunting beauty. She was a special one, both he and his grandfather had known if from first glance.

He had only been strutting along a certain corridor that afternoon, carrying a tray of Elsa's dirty breakfast dishes to be brought to the kitchen, when the little eleven-year-old had literally ran right into him. One second, he was firmly on his feet, holding a handful of breakables. The next, he was tumbling to the floor, an array of fancy plates crashing into each other and shattering into a million little pieces. A flash of strawberry-blond hair caught the corner of his eye.

"Oh my gosh! Sorry, sorry about that! I'll clean it up for you, I promise!"

Though her voice sounded frantic, the girl was clearly out of breathe, her chest heaving as it struggled to grasp onto oxygen. Wherever she had been sprinting to, she had been going fast.

"Oof, that's okay, that's fine… Anna, is it?"

The girl nodded. She reached down to pick up a shard of glass, but he quickly deflected her approaching hand. The last thing he needed now was for her to get a giant gash on her thumb and for her ruby blood to join the mess that now covered the carpeted floor. She smiled at him guiltily after that, as if she pretty much knew she wasn't supposed to do it yet had tried anyway, and he was surprised at the shape of her white, shining teeth. Not that they were weird in any way, but for the months he had known Elsa, she had rarely ever smiled at him. And if she had, it was always short lasting and closed-mouthed. Anna looked so much like her… it was weird seeing her teeth.

"Mind telling me where you were going, little lady?" he asked her kindly as he brushed up the glass onto the tray he was holding, remembering what Elsa had told him about her talkativeness, "You looked like you were in a pretty big hurry."

She grinned at him widely. The sheer joy radiating from her face at that moment was enough to make him pass out. He loved it.

"I was just playing a little game with myself. I like to do this weird thing where I run around the entire castle and time myself for how long it takes me. I mean, I don't actually _have_ an hourglass to keep the time for me, but I kinda just guess at how long it takes. I think I'm a pretty good guesser… but I wouldn't know, since I've never had anything to compare to."

The casual way she talked, her voice she cheery and childish and just full of life, was mind-blowing. He thought back to Elsa again. To the way she always seemed to be holding back a part of herself, even during those rare moments when she agreed to open up to him. Her legs always crossed beneath her and her hands always clasped in her lap and her voice always kept so pleasant and formal, every word pronounced correctly. She wouldn't allow herself to laugh too loudly at his jokes, or eat lunch without using the proper utensils, and god forbid she ever used her _powers_…

Benson shook his head to snap himself out of it. It felt oddly light from the fall, but he refused to let himself focus on that insignificant detail. He had to remind himself that he was in the middle of a conversation right now, with no one less than the younger princess of Arendelle, and the very _least _he could do was pay attention during it. It would be so rude not to.

"Sounds fun. Is knocking over innocent bystanders and breaking a tray-full of your parent's valuable china part of this game?"

Eleven-year-old Anna laughed. Not in that sweet, polite way one would expect a princess to laugh, but in a way that was loud and reckless, slightly unsettling yet at the same time nearly bursting with cheer.

"No, not really. It's just a bonus."

Benson found himself chuckling at this. She was a funny girl. So was her sister, he thought, but in a much subtler way. Anna was just all out there. It was nice. This was the way a child was _supposed _to act.

"I guess I'm going to need to get Elsa some new tableware for lunch, then," he remarked, more to himself than anything as he finished cleaning himself up, his tray now packed with shards of glass.

"Oh, are you the servant that brings Elsa her food everyday?" Anna blurted out suddenly, her eyes getting wide and excited while the ends of her mouth turned upwards in a funny little smile, "Could you do me a favor, then? Could you ask her if she would maybe try eating lunch with me next time, like in the dining room or something? Or, if not, if she wants to ride her bike with me in the hallway today? It's sorta dangerous, I know, but that's what makes it fun… Oh! And maybe ask her if she wants to build a snowman with me during the first snowfall of winter. I mean, I know it's the middle of spring right now, but I mean, there's no harm in looking ahead! I'll be fun. Ask her, okay? Will you ask her? Will ya?"

Her voice had gotten so fast and excited, her lips flapping at neck-breaking speeds, that Benson hadn't even gotten half of what she'd just said. But he understood the gist of it. The poor girl wanted to hang out with her sister. She didn't even know…

For a moment, he felt seriously depressed. The way she looked at him, with her eyes so wide and innocent and hopeful, he saw in her a spark of childlike optimism that he'd never once witnessed in Elsa. It was as if Anna actually expected it to happen, even after all those failed attempts. To be honest, he felt sort of bad for both of the sisters. No matter which way he looked at it, this situation was not a good one.

After thoroughly promising that he would, though inwardly feeling guilty at the fact that he would have to go back on his word, Benson made his way back to the kitchen, his mind now trapped in an endless swirl of unhappy thoughts.

…

Many hours later, Elsa sat once again on her windowsill. She had spent about an hour or two with her tutor—though not as long as usual, considering it was the weekend—and had been humming non-stop songs under her breath for the past forty-five minutes. She had been about to burst from boredom when she heard the lifesaving sound of laughing children coming from the crack in her window. Intent on finding something to occupy herself, she had wasted no time on settling herself down in front of it, ready to enjoy the show.

At first, the girl was unaware what was going on below, but she liked it. A group of little children were all running around in the garden just beneath her window. They weren't supposed to be there, of course—the area they ran on was strictly off-limits—but she made no move to stop them. It was almost… cute.

For a long while, Elsa observed the game the children were playing. She didn't understand it, but she at least attempted to put together the pieces in her head. One little girl, she noticed, was running around particularly frantically, chasing all the other children as they screamed with child-like joy. She waved a little stick in her hand as it were a weapon, and when she cornered a little boy with it, she yelled something and he immediately fell to the floor, pretending to be dead. Elsa was curious, so she opened the window just a little bit wider. She wanted to hear what was going on.

"Look what she did!" one of the other little girls screamed, bunching together with a group of the other running kids, "She killed him!"

Elsa held back a little giggle as it tried to crawl out of her throat. The way the girl had said it was just too adorable. But what was it with little kids' obsessions with death? It was as if it were a _game_ to all of them. Not that she had the right to be judgmental. She'd thought the same at that innocent age. At least before the incident.

"She needs to be punished!" another boy yelled, "Let's go get her!"

As unimportant as those words seemed, Elsa's smile faltered a little on her face. She didn't know why. Something about this just didn't seem right.

"Yeah!" screamed a third boy, "She used witchcraft! She's a monster! Let's go kill the witch! KILL THE WITCH!"

Elsa's eyes went wide, her breath hitching in her throat. She seriously considered, right then and there, jumping off her stool and pushing the window shut, as this was clearly not something she wanted to see. But she couldn't do that. She just couldn't.

She watched as the group of other children banded together and approached the witch girl, who was currently in the middle of using her wand to turn up rocks in the dirt. When she saw that the game was on again, she quickly straightened herself up, waving her stick in the air.

"WHO GOES THERE!" she yelled, her squeaky voice not really pulling off the intended affect, "Step closer and I'll turn you all into frogs!"

"Not so fast, witch!" replied another bravely, "We're here to put an end to your witchcraft. You killed a boy, so now we'll kill you!"

It was then that they descended on her, knocking the wand out of her hand and grabbing onto every limb that she had. She shrieked, but not in a bad way. In a way that children do when they're having a lot of fun. This shouldn't have scared Elsa, but somehow it did. It scared her a lot.

"Stop, you weaklings, stop!" yelled the girl, giggling madly, "Put me down this instant!"

"Let's drown her in the lake!" a little boy yelled, "That's what people do with witches!"

He was talking about the large puddle in the corner of the garden, which was so shallow it couldn't have drowned an infant, and the witch girl shrieked some more, clearly having the time of her life.

"Yeah!" chorused the crowd, loving the idea, "Drown the witch! Drown the witch!"

Together, they all picked her up and started to drag her towards the puddle. She was going insane with excitement, kicking and laughing and pulling and squirming, and all the little kids around her were giggling like crazy. It was a sweet scene, really. A show of childhood imagination. But that was not how Elsa saw it.

Somehow, in her brain, the girl's childish scream of joy was replaced by an ear-splitting shriek of terror. Her kicking feet, dressed in nice brown shoes, turned dirty and bare, and her hair became dark and matted. The healthy pudge of her cheeks and limbs disappeared, and soon a sickly gauntness sprouted along her body. The puddle she was being carried to turned into a pile of chains. She was no longer a healthy little girl, she was a sick middle-aged woman. And she was going to be murdered. _She was going to be murdered!_

Before Elsa could stop herself, she screamed. She hadn't even realized it had been happening. One second, she was speechless. The next, her mouth was open and all her pain and fear was pouring out of it, bouncing around and around in her little room. It was loud and high-pitched, and clearly very audible, and as soon as it had left her lips, she wished it back. Just as the children below her stopped their game to search for the source of the strange noise, Elsa slammed the window shut. The game was over.

She had sat there, her heart beating like a hummingbird in the quietness of the room, for what could have only been a few seconds. For after a moment, Benson came barging in, a wild look of panic in his eyes. He must have been coming to bring her lunch when he heard her screaming. How would she explain this to him?

She sat quite still as Benson looked at her, letting him take in the situation.

"What happened?" he murmured after a few seconds, "What was that?"

"I-I need to tell you a story," she stuttered, completely ignoring his other question, "I just… really need to. Right now."

He looked surprised at her strange, seemingly random request, but he did not deny her. Something about that look in her eyes told him this was something he'd have to patient about. Something was very, very wrong.

"Okay," he murmured, pulling up her desk chair and sitting himself upon it, "Go ahead then, what's your story?"

And she had told him. She didn't want to, really, but she couldn't stop herself. Before she knew it, the memory of the woman in the chamber was flying out between her lips, no matter how hard she tried to keep it back. She just wasn't thinking clearly at that time. All she knew was that she really couldn't hold it all in anymore. She couldn't sit there pretending that what had happened wasn't real. It _was_ real, and she needed to let somebody know that. She needed him to know. She couldn't be the only one anymore.

As she had sat there, her knees tucked into her chest as she began to let him into the darkest parts of her memories, Benson had sat across from her, his heart sinking in his chest. He couldn't help but hear the pain and desperation hidden behind the monotonous quality of her usually pretty voice. Her eyes were wide and far away, as if she were literally reliving it all as she spoke, and it broke Benson's very soul to compare them to Anna's eyes. Hers had been so innocent, so hopeful, so optimistic. Sure, they had held their share of pain, but not enough to turn them into what Elsa's had become. Anna was still grasping onto the loveliness of adolescence, her joy not yet lost, but Elsa? She was a shell of her former self. Full of pain and suffering and loneliness, not a single hope to pull her through. How could anyone live like that, much less a little girl?

Poor child. He felt so bad for her at that moment. Those powers she had, they were supposed to be a blessing, he was sure of it, but somehow they had turned into a curse. She was terrified of them. It made her think of herself as a monster. Holding them in, as she had been trained to do, was tearing her apart from the inside out. And her parents… her _parents_. At that moment, no matter how kind they had been in giving him this job, he hated them. Despised them with all of his being. How dare they. Everything that had ever been wrong with Elsa was all their fault. Her fear, her self-hatred, her hopelessness. What were they thinking, showing her something like that? What kind of horrible people would _do_ that to their child?

He had been so drawn into his own anger, sitting there on his chair and fuming, that he had only barely noticed when Elsa suddenly went quiet. Her story was done. She had spilt everything, and now she was completely empty.

Benson glanced down at his fists, which were curled up into tight balls at his sides, and then looked right back up at her again. She was practically shivering, her eyes glistening as ice slowly began to crawl up the windowsill. The ice didn't matter, though, he'd clean it all up later. What mattered was the thing he was about to say next. The thing that would, eventually, lead to his own demise.

"Elsa, I'm getting you out of here."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so I know that chapter wasn't too exciting, but I promise you next one will be better. Because of the fact that she's still at the castle in the movie, you probably already know that Benson's promise to get Elsa away didn't really work out. But you still don't know <em>why <em>it didn't work out, so at least you have something to look forward to.**

**Just a little spoiler alert, next chapter will include Elsa finally seeing her powers, and herself, as something beautiful, rather than horrible. You'll also get to hear what Benson is planning, and I'm going to write this big Elsa/father confrontation scene (which, I'll admit, I've been dying to write since before I even started this fic XD. It's going to be so dramatic and epic).**

**Well, I'll talk to you all next week, I guess! See you then ;).**


	5. The Failure

**Okay, so I know I'm updating really early, but I just couldn't stop myself from posting again XD. I was just so, so excited to write this chapter... it was killing me. I started it Saturday, finished it Sunday, and spent forever fixing it up since then.**

**This is the kinda a big chapter, so it was very important to me that I made it good. I really hope I succeeded. I had such an amazing time writing it, though, so that's usually a pretty good sign. Just warning you now, it get's pretty dramatic (near the end) and also kinda depressing. I'm not entirely satisfied with it yet, it could still use a lot of work, but for now, I feel comfortable enough to share it with you. Enjoy :).**

**Btw, your guy's reviews mean the world to me, so for all of you who have reviewed, thanks a bunch! I've spoken long enough, though. You may now begin reading...**

* * *

><p>For the first night in a long, long time, Elsa did not have a nightmare. Though, in all honesty, that was probably due to the fact that she didn't sleep.<p>

It was all because of _him_, she knew. How could she even _think_ about drifting off when she still had those words of his bouncing around and around in her head? They stuck like gum into the smallest crevices of her brain, and she found herself pulling and pulling at them to no avail, trying hopelessly to free herself. Something about the things he'd told her just refused to leave her mind.

He wanted to get her out of here? Was he insane? He must have been, because Elsa just couldn't process what he'd meant by that. It didn't make any logical sense... not in her head, at least.

She could barely believe it had only been mere hours since she'd finished that conversation with him. It felt like a lifetime, already. She'd been lying face-down in her bed ever since then, and her hours of intense contemplation had left her feeling both emotionally exhausted and mentally dizzy. Or maybe she was mentally exhausted and emotionally dizzy. She really couldn't tell. Her mind was too fuzzy. Thinking was hard.

As much as she tried to stop them, the words Benson had said to her kept popping right back up into her mind, running through her head as if taunting her. She groaned in frustration. Why couldn't they just leave her alone and let her sleep?

_"You're not a monster, Elsa. I know the things they've done to you may make it seem so, but you're not. I promise. Why can't you just believe me? You need to stop assuming the worst of yourself."_

Elsa's eyes popped open. She knew, of course, that the voice she heard had only come from the depths of her own brain, a mere memory of the words Benson had told her earlier today, but they were so loud and powerful and clear in her head that for a single moment she was almost positive that he was in the room with her. She peered around nervously, and once again sure that she was all alone, set her face back down on the pillow. _Go away, Benson. Get out of my thoughts._

The moment he had proposed his strange desire to break her out of her own castle, Elsa remembered just sitting there and staring at him in silence, almost positive he was joking. But Benson had hardly noticed. He'd had that glint in his eyes again. His mind had been a thousand miles away. He was insane, he really was.

"Yeah," he had murmured in the silence, a smile blooming across his face as if he'd just made an ingenious realization, "Yeah… I'm getting you out of here."

"What?" she had asked him, her heart suddenly beginning to beat painfully in her chest, "Getting me out of where?"

He hadn't even acknowledged her. In retrospect, his mind was so far away he probably hadn't even heard her to begin with, but Elsa was still offended. She stared at him, slightly disturbed, as he continued to talk to himself.

"I can sneak you out of the servants gate at midnight. Everyone will be asleep, and your parents are so busy all the time, they probably won't even notice you're gone until at least a week later. I can bring you to the snowy North Mountains… you'll be in her element there. They'll never find us, not as long as we're hidden way up—"

"BENSON!" Elsa had interrupted in exasperation, annoyed at the way he spoke to the wall as if she were not right besides him. "What are you talking about? Please tell me!"

For some reason, besides having been nearly deaf before, this time he seemed to have heard her. He snapped his neck to the side to look her in the eyes, and she'd never seen his face so bright before.

"I'm talking about helping you escape this… prison, Elsa. I'm talking about letting you be free."

If her eyes had been wide before, they were practically popping out of her head now.

"What do you mean by that? I am free!" she had exclaimed, barely believing her ears. "And this is no prison. It's a castle, Benson. One of the best in the world, in fact. I'm here for my own protection, and for the protection of everyone around me. I can't imagine being anywhere else."

At this, Benson's eyes narrowed. He didn't seem to be in the mood to even consider the things that she was saying. "Come on, Elsa. Don't tell me you still believe in all that crap. You're smarter than that, I know you are. You've been brainwashed by your parents, and I think you're just as aware of it as I am. You're just in denial."

Below the initial surprise of the bluntness of his statement, and the lack of sugar-coating to soften his usually kind words, Elsa had felt an uncontrollable surge of anger beginning to well up in her chest. She couldn't stop herself from nearly hissing her next words. They were more offensive then she'd intended them to be, but once she'd said them, there was no taking them back.

"Don't you dare insult my parents, you _wretched servant_. They _love_ me. Everything they do is for my benefit! They're the only one's who have kept me from completely losing control. The only one's who've kept me from turning into a monster. I support them with all my heart, there is no brainwashing involved."

He scoffed at her words. Suddenly, he looked furious at her, which was perfectly fine with Elsa, because she was _just_ as furious at him. It was strange how two people could go from sharing their most personal stories one moment, and then be on the verge of killing each other the next. Strange, yet interesting. The two of them gave each other matching death glares, and the girl could already feel the ice pricking at her fingertips.

"Elsa, your parents may love you, but they sure as hell have a strange way of showing it," he countered, his voice angrier than she had ever heard it before. "They've kept you locked up in a single room for _six_ years, for god sakes, without even your own sister for company! They built you your own personal dungeon, and don't even get me started on that woman they tortured right in front of your own eyes! Did you ever wonder what kind of parents would _do_ that to their own kid? I know you have, you're just reluctant to admit it... Please, Elsa, why won't you just see the light?"

Suddenly, the girl began to realize that the anger Benson was feeling was not directed towards her, but towards her parents. He still loved her just as he always had. Against her own judgment, tears began to prick at Elsa's eyes. There was truth in that statement, she knew there was, but the truth was ugly, so she refused to let herself see it. She sucked her tears right back up again, but too late. Benson had seen. He knew he was getting somewhere, and he was ready to strike again and again, until he was absolutely positive that he had accomplished his goal. He went on to say the things he'd told her about not being a monster, and as she'd listened she'd bitten her lip in discomfort, tasting a tint of blood.

"Please, Benson, just be quiet. I don't want to talk about this right now," she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut to try and block it all out. "My parents are not perfect… of course I realize that, but they're still my parents. I don't need you to tell me how horrible they are. They do what they think is best."

The servant sighed, his head beginning to droop forward. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were shining with droplets of water. She didn't know why. There was nothing for him to be crying about.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her sadly, his voice all the sudden very quiet. "But is this really how you think you deserve to be treated? To be left all alone in a room and expected to solve your problems yourself? Elsa, I don't know about you, but I for one think you deserve more than this. Your powers… maybe holding them back isn't the answer."

She sniffed silently to herself, wiping her eye with the back hand of her hand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've tried to control them for so long, and it's just not working. Have you ever thought that, just maybe, you're going about it all wrong? Trying to hold in your powers is obviously a failing project, so why not go in another direction? Why not try just letting them go?"

Elsa had to stifle a gasp. Let them go? That seemed dangerous. It also seemed… kind of exciting.

When she didn't respond to his remark, Benson continued, his eyes regaining their usual shine. "I could take you out to the mountains one day, where there are no people, and you could use your powers without fear of hurting anybody. You'd practice with them, just the same way that a person might practice swinging a baseball bat or something, and eventually you'd get better at it. You'd gain more control over it. I mean, I don't know for sure, but it's worth a shot, isn't it? Obviously, the path your traveling down isn't really getting you anywhere, so there's really no risk in going a different way. I've lived without a house for years, so I'm more than sure I'd be able to keep us both alive during the time it will take you to learn."

She had just looked at him for a few seconds, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Her mind had already been so tired, so full of emotional discharge, that she could barely think to begin with. How did he expect her to mull over something like _this_? Finally, after far too long, she had answered him, her chest feeling awfully tight.

"I-I... oh my god. You're right, Benson. You're absolutely right! I… need to get out of here."

Before she could stop herself, the corners of her mouth had twitched upwards. A thought entered her mind that she immediately felt ashamed of, yet she simply couldn't hold it back. _She was finally getting out of here!_ She couldn't imagine any better news, and suddenly a laugh erupted from her throat without her even trying. It tickled her cheeks, and crinkled her nose, and soon her eyes were flashing just as warmly and brightly as Benson's had always done. In only a matter of time, she would finally be free. Finally be free...

Now, so much later, Elsa was still thinking about the things Benson had said to her, lying awake in bed as the rest of the world was deep in slumber. Somehow, at this time of night, some of the excitement had drained out of his wonderful idea, and in her mind it was replaced with anger and guilt.

How could she even _think_ of leaving? That idea was so foolish, so childish. As much as she wished it so, Elsa was not a child anymore. Those years had come and gone as quickly as the setting sun, and now they would never rise again. She couldn't just go around pretending to believe in miracles and fairy-tail endings... what was she thinking?

And her poor parents. Just by talking to Benson she was betraying them. If she were really a good daughter, she'd have already told them both about his plan, and he'd have been arrested for treason hours ago. Why would Benson even do this to her? He must have known of the conflicting emotions it would fill her with. Wasn't her life bad enough already? Why did he have to complicate it even more?

God… she hated that guy. But, deep down, she also loved him like a brother. Because it seemed to her that he was the only person in the entire known universe who really, truly cared for her. It was an obvious fact that if he were ever caught trying to sneak a princess out of her castle, he would be arrested immediately. Yet he wanted to do it anyway, because he knew it was better for _her_. She could barely wrap her mind around the amount of care and selflessness it must have taken him to even imagine it. Suddenly, her whole body was filled with a strange sort of warmth. It was comforting and safe and beautiful, and as she wrapped it around her freezing soul, she took it as a chance to finally find her way out of reality.

Even in sleep, her body resting in the deepest of slumber, Elsa did not have a nightmare. All night long her mind was filled with images of a white, snowy mountain. Of Benson standing tall and proud on its peak. Of the place that would, eventually, become her new home. Maybe it was crazy to believe it would happen, but she couldn't help herself. For so long, ice and snow had been her cage, but now it would be her freedom.

If she believed that, maybe she was still a child after all.

…

After that one, troublesome night, Benson's daily visits began to change quite abruptly, but in Elsa's opinion, only for the better. The light chats between them had ended. The daily-lunches together had ceased. The ice-scrapping was no longer necessary, and their never-ending goblet of stories had drizzled dry. All of these things, however, were replaced by something a thousand times more exciting.

Every day Benson would arrive, practically every single chance he got, and together the two of them would work on Elsa's powers. They'd go out onto her little balcony, which connected directly to Elsa's room, and he'd just start telling her to let it all go. The balcony was facing towards the back of the castle, away from the village and all of its meddlesome villagers, yet even though there had been little to no risk of her being seen, Elsa had still felt reluctant at first. She didn't know why, but every time she was about to release a burst of ice, she just felt a tiny tugging at the back of her conscious, telling her not to. Telling her it was bad, dangerous, stupid. That tugging was the voice of her father, and as much as it hurt, Elsa ignored it. She had to learn to control herself, and maybe this could be the way.

On that balcony, with Benson beside her and the entire beautiful world in front, Elsa would throw out her hands and just release. Release her tension and her fear and her anger and her guilt, and it would all come out as a beautiful burst of snowflakes. In the middle of summer, they sparkled magically in the air, lasting only a few seconds before dissolving in the heat. Elsa would make ice-sculptures on the wooden ground, dress the bland railing in intricate, icy decorations, and even line the back of the castle in gigantic snow-flake prints. Each time she did, it was as if a huge weight was being removed from her chest. One she didn't even know she had. It was fascinating, exhilarating, wonderful. And the best part was, the more she let go, the easier it was to hold back in later on. She couldn't get enough of it.

"It's because you were never meant to hold your powers back, Elsa," Benson had explained to her one sunny afternoon, when she told him about this wonderful sensation. "After all those years, all that ice has just been packing up inside you. So much so that it just kept spilling out at random times. Now that you've let it go, though, there's less to hold in, so it's easier to do it."

"But why does it feel so _good?_" she had asked him, feeling like the child in the way she lay stretched out of the balcony floor, basking in the sun. "It's like... I can't explain it... but it's almost as if I feel lighter once I let it all go. Like I can fly."

At this, Benson had smiled. Smiled like a parent to a child. Like he was really, truly proud of her. "I don't know for sure," he had told her warmly, "But I bet that ice has been weighing down your soul, too. It's what's been filling you up with all that fear and unhappiness you've been drowning in for so long. Now, every time you release some of that ice, you're releasing some of that pain you've been holding in. I can't imagine how great you'll feel after a few years of this, Elsa... I swear, one day, maybe even pretty soon, you're going to get complete control of your powers. I just know it."

Elsa had to admit, even though Benson hadn't had a formal education, he was an incredibly smart guy. She admired him. If he really thought that that was the truth, then maybe using her powers wasn't such a bad thing after all. For she couldn't deny just how beautiful those snowflakes looked when they glistened under that summer sun. She couldn't deny the elegance of each and every ice-sculpture she created, looking like some miraculous gift of nature. And she definitely couldn't deny just how great it felt to make those things, too. Maybe her parents really were wrong. No, not maybe… _of course they were wrong!_ These powers, Elsa realized, were a blessing. Not a curse. Suddenly, every moment she'd ever tried to hold them back seemed like a wasted moment. Look at all the things they could do! Look at all the things _she_ could do! Oh, she was so proud, she could barely breath. She was no monster… she was a miracle. Now, at last, she had seen the light.

Benson had told her that the best time for them to leave would be in the midst of winter, and she had agreed whole-heartedly. They decided that they could sneak out during some sort of major snowstorm. That way, any icy trail they might leave would be immediately disguised, and Elsa's white hair and pale skin would blend in far better than it would in the sunlight. Besides, that was the time of year where Elsa was in her element, and if they ran into any trouble, she would surely be able to use her powers to get them out of it. All they needed was to get to the North Mountains, and as soon as they did, they'd be safe for life. Unless the King and Queen opened up about Elsa's mysterious powers—and they never would, she was sure of it—no one would ever think she'd survive up there, so no one would ever even bother to look. The two of them would never be found… never, ever be found.

And so, of course, Elsa waited for winter with deep anticipation coursing through her veins faster than her own blood. She could barely take it, anymore. She just wanted to get out of here. She just wanted her life to start.

When autumn began, Elsa watched each colored leaf fall from the trees with excitement, and Benson and her soon began tying up any loose ends within their plan, deciding how they'd make shelter and which precautions they would take to hide themselves and even what kind of food they'd eat. Over and over again, they went over their escape. It required Benson's special key to the servant's exit, as well as some serious sneaking around, but within a week the girl knew it by heart. When winter finally announced its arrival with a flurry of tiny snowflakes, Elsa could barely breathe.

"Should we leave tonight?" Elsa had asked Benson one afternoon, her heartbeat fast and excited. "Should I say goodbye to Anna, or is that too dangerous?"

The hardest thing about leaving, Elsa had realized long ago, was that she could not take Anna with her. Elsa loved her sister, she really did, and she could already tell that it would hurt to be separated from her, even though they'd been growing apart for years. Still, she knew that it would be better for Anna once she left. The gates could finally be opened, and the girl could once again be reintroduced into society. She might be upset for a little while, but she'd make new friends pretty soon, and before long her big sister would just be a long-lost memory in the back of her brain. It was the better for the both of them. It really was.

"No, we're not going yet," Benson had replied, much to Elsa's disappointment. "It's too early; the snow isn't thick enough. I don't think we should be in too much of a rush. I mean, you've seen Arendelle during the winter, it practically turns into the arctic with all the snowstorms it gets. They'll be better times."

Elsa nodded, understanding. "What about that thing with Anna?"

Benson gave her a very guilty, compassionate smile, and Elsa knew his response before he even said anything.

"Maybe one day you could write her a letter and explain to her why you left, but for right now, I just don't think she'd let us go peacefully. She'd either want you to stay, or want to pack her bags and go right with us, and it's just—"

"Too dangerous," Elsa interrupted, finishing his sentence. "I understand, Benson. It's okay."

Benson nodded happily, and a little bit of the guilt drained from his eyes. He must have still sensed some of her disappointment, though, because the smile he gave her right afterwards was clearly forced.

"Good, then. I'll be right back, I've gotta go bring your dishes to the kitchen. You finish up your packing, okay? Bring some of your smallest, lightest dresses, and anything you might need to serve as a reminder of your family. We'll be leaving any day, so you need to be prepared as soon as possible."

"Got it," Elsa replied, nodding in acceptance. "I'll see you later, then, Benson."

The servant said a quick farewell and quietly walked out of her room, never to enter it again. Little did the girl know that this would be the second-to-last conversation she ever had with the man, and the last would be far less pleasant.

…

Three days, four hours, eleven minutes. Three days, four hours, twelve minutes. Three days, four hours, thirteen minutes. And on, and on, and on.

That was how long it had been since she last saw Benson.

Elsa liked to think of herself as a very composed young woman, but at that moment in time, she was simply freaking out. There was no other way to put it. She kept pacing around and around in her tiny room, throwing herself down upon her bed only to jump right back out of it again. She just couldn't stay still, not with the way her mind kept racing around. What had happened to him? Why hadn't he shown up? Where had he gone to? This was the longest time, since the day that he had arrived, that she'd went without seeing him, and to be completely honest, it was killing her. Not only because she was worried, but because she missed him. It got lonely, being up here all by herself. She needed someone to talk to.

Though she knew she was only making it worse, Elsa couldn't stop herself from counting every minute that went by, feeling the way her hope slipped away each passing second. What if had decided it was just too dangerous a plan, and had simply abandoned her? No, he hadn't done that. He couldn't have. He cared about her too much, he was far too good of a person. It had to be something else. But what could it be? She pondered for hours, but nothing came up. Deep down inside her mangled, twisted soul, she thought she knew the truth, but it was simply too horrible for her to address. In that instance, not knowing was a thousand times better than letting that guess cross her mind.

Nearly an hour later, it was the desperation still swimming within her veins that made her do something she now considered very unpleasant. It was the fear still sticking to her conscious that made her speak to the last man on Earth that she wanted to speak to. It was the anxiousness still beating in her heart that made her pull herself together for just long enough to complete her deadly task. She went up to see her father. She had to; he was the only one who might have known.

"Dad," Elsa had said very innocently that morning, after knocking lightly on the door to his studies. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

It was as if he had been waiting for her, his response was so immediate. "Come in, Elsa!" she heard him call from the other side of the wood, and slowly she let herself enter.

"What is it, princess?" he asked her kindly, turning away momentarily from a tableful of documents. The way he spoke to her, so fatherly and loving, made her cringe on the inside. Made her feel so very, very guilty for the fact that she would so soon by leaving him. But, she reminded herself, she had no reason to feel guilty. He had done far, far worse to her, even if it had been of good intentions.

"Well, father, it's just that my servant… his name is Benson, I think… hasn't shown up for duty in a few days. My bed has remained icy for the last couple of nights, and I've had to go downstairs and fetch my own meals. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

After talking so casually to Benson for so long, speaking formally felt unnatural and strange on her lips. She longed to use the phrase 'um,' but knew her father would scold her for it.

"Has he now?" his father asked, his eyes widening slightly in false surprise. "Well, I have no idea where he could have gone. Don't worry, though, princess. If he does not turn up after a quick search, I'll just assign a new servant to work on your room. How about that lovely maid, Gretchen? She's a hard-worker."

Inwardly, Elsa groaned. Gretchen was that cynical woman who used to help Herbert scrape down her room when it got too much for his old body to handle, and she was the one who always seemed to be giving Elsa the evil-eye. That servant was the last person on Earth who Elsa would consider 'lovely,' and she most definitely did not want her to be her new maid. But, in reality, it almost didn't seem to matter. Not like she was actually staying here. As soon as Elsa found out where Benson was hiding, they would be off. She would begin her new life from scratch. Gretchen would never get the chance.

"Oh," said Elsa, trying to hide the growing suspicion in her voice at the way that her father was most clearly lying to her. "I see. Thank you, then, Father."

Without another word, the girl strutted out of the room, her heart drumming loudly in her chest. She was most certain, now, that the man responsible for her birth was hiding something. Just by the way he looked at her, with his eyes so falsely innocent and his smile holding a tinge of fatherly guilt. Not to mention, she was quite sure that if the servant had actually not shown up for work in three days, her father would be fuming mad, and would have fired him immediately. The calm way he acted was just not in character. Something was off...

It was practically fate, the way that as soon as she made that realization, Elsa found herself face-to-face with the large, black door that had led her to the dungeons so many years before. On the way to her father's studies, she had passed by it without even a second glance, but now? Now it seemed to be the answer to all of her questions. The tool to unearthing all the secrets surrounding her. Very carefully, Elsa approached it, laying her hand gingerly on the doorknob.

_Damn._ It was locked. Just like it had always been. Elsa's first instinct was, of course, to just blow it open with her ice powers. But that would be too loud, too noticeable. If she wanted to get all the way down to the dungeons, she'd have to _sneak_ down there. But how?

Before she could entirely process what she was doing, Elsa had created a tiny, thin stick of ice out of nothing more than thin air. In one fell swoop of the arm, she had jammed it into the door's metal lock, jiggling it around. _Lock-picking._ During one particular day of discussion, about a thousand years ago, Benson had shown her how to do this just for the fun of it. Now, as the door clicked open, Elsa silently remarked on just how much more useful it had turned out to be than she had thought.

When the door was safely closed behind her, and Elsa was sure no one would be able to hear a thing, the girl started stampeding down the stairs, the heel of her shoes creating a riot of clicking beneath her. She was so anxious, she doubted she'd be able to slow down if she tried. In little more than five minutes, she had already reached the base of the stairs, standing still for only a moment to catch her breath. Here were the dungeons again. Boy, did they bring back memories. And of course none of the good kind.

For a moment, Elsa gazed around, realizing that all the cells besides her were empty. She gave a little sigh of relief. As much as she wanted to see Benson again, the idea of him being caught and locked up in here was not something she wanted to occur. It was about the last thing she wanted, actually. Oh well, maybe he was just—

"Elsa," a voice coughed, sounding so gruff and cracked that it scared her, "Is that you?"

Elsa's heart stopped. She looked around, but still saw nobody. When she walked a little ways forward, however, something caught the corner of her eye. It was a dark figure hiding in the way back of a dirty prison cell, masked almost fully by the shadows. From where it lay, it wasn't visible from the door. The girl, suddenly, felt terrified.

"B-Benson?" she stuttered, her lungs throbbing in her chest. "Benson, it's me, Elsa."

From way back in the darkness, Elsa saw some movement, and with a grunt that sounded very painful, the figure stood up. He limped towards her, and when his face finally caught the light, Elsa cringed. It was Benson, yet at the same time, it wasn't.

"Oh my god," she gasped, an expression of complete horror and pain spreading across her face, "W-what happened to you?"

He looked, in all definitions of the term, truly horrible. For a moment, she couldn't even recognize him. But then his eyes sparkled, and she knew that he was in there. He had to be.

Looking at him now, Elsa could barely believe how his once kind face had turned so abruptly into a masterpiece of bruising. His nose was bent oddly to the side, clearly broken, and spewing dark, thick drops of blood as rapidly as a waterfall. The crimson liquid dripped methodically down from his chin, spilling onto the cold metal floor in quick little 'plops', and Elsa felt the uncontrollable urge to vomit, heat rushing to the pit of her stomach in fear and disgust. As she struggled to hold it all back, she noticed his split lip, and the way that one of his eyes was so sickeningly puffy it seemed to be stuck closed. A wide, bloody gash was stretched across his forward, looking fresh yet already dripping with pus and infection. When her nose managed to wrap around rancid smell emanating from his filthy cell, Elsa suddenly felt her eyes beginning to tear up, though that was probably not the only reason...

"I knew it was you," Benson whispered, his voice so quiet the girl had to struggle to hear it. "I could feel it, it got so cold all of the sudden..."

His eyes looked so hopeless compared to how they had been no less than three short days ago. It was as if the life had been squeezed right out of him. Elsa could barely stand to look into them, yet she couldn't look away.

"Benson-" she began slowly, her voice sounding so quiet. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she began her sentence regardless. She just needed to feel his name on her lips.

"Elsa," he interrupted, his chest heaving with dry sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I failed you." He looked completely heartbroken at that moment. Guilty, almost. She couldn't even begin to guess why. This was not his fault... if anything, it was hers. He had been brought here only for trying to help her out. She should have been the one begging for forgiveness. Not him. Anybody but him.

"What happened?" the girl repeated again, her eyes wide and stinging with tears. "Please, tell me, what happened?" She needed to know. Her entire being was practically screaming for it.

The man just shook his head slowly, winced at the movement, and after far too long, answered. The pain was so evident in his voice, a little part of her died right then and there. Oh, Benson...

"I-I told someone," he chocked, "This maid named Gretchen. She used to be friends with Herbert and I thought… I thought… I could trust her. I asked her to explain to Anna what happened once we were gone, I just thought it would make you feel better about leaving. B-but, she told them. She told your parents, Elsa. I'm so sorry…"

A sob welled up in Elsa's throat, too, and her voice was shaking so wildly that her response was almost inaudible.

"They… they beat you, didn't they." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

The man didn't try and verify her words, but the look of darkness in his eyes was answer enough. Elsa moaned loudly. She couldn't help herself. This was all too much to absorb.

Slowly, without even knowing what she was doing, Elsa stuck out her hand and rested it gently on a dark bruise painted on Benson's cheek. She just wanted to touch him. Feel the warmth of his smile for just one more measly moment. She recoiled immediately, though, when he cringed away in pain.

"I-I'll go get my dad!" the girl yelled suddenly, her voice full of pathetic desperation. "He'll let you go… I'll make him!"

That was the only option left, it seemed. Elsa could break the servant out of his prison with her powers, but she was no magical healer. Unless she got her father to bring him to the infirmary, Benson was done for.

At her words, Benson reached forward and weakly grabbed the girl's hands. He didn't even seem to care about how freezing cold of her fingers, and despite all logic, Elsa could've sworn that for a single moment, she felt warmth. The young man looked her in the eyes, and the expression in them showed that he knew something that she didn't.

"I'm sorry, Elsa," he whispered, trying as hard as he could to squeeze her hand tightly in his own. "I failed you… I failed you. I only... wanted... to show you... that you're not... a monster. Remember that, Elsa. You're not a monster. You're beautiful."

Unable to take the finality in his voice, Elsa quickly pulled away, her eyes blurred with water. If this really was the last moment between the two, then she had so many things she wanted to say to him... but no. It wasn't. Right now was not the time to spill out her heart. That time would come later. Right now, it was time to save his life.

"I'll stop him!" she screamed in denial of the obvious, backing away towards the steps with her eyes so wide and fearful, "I'll stop him! I will, I promise!"

On that very spot, she turned quickly on her heels, not even noticing the way that Benson's hand had reached out to her in hopelessness, begging her to stay with him in what he knew would be his final moment. Elsa had sprinted upstairs, not even looking back once. She would soon grow to regret that. It would be the last time she would ever see his face again. The last time that spark in his eyes would ever even glint in her direction.

From here on out, a new face would be added to the casting of her recurring nightmares.

…

"FATHER! What have you done!?"

When Elsa finally made it back upstairs, she was far too emotionally charged and out-of-breath to even think about knocking on her father's door. She simply barged right in, her chest heaving and her eyes locked in a look of desperation.

In almost slow motion, he had turned his head to look at her, a scowl stretched across his face. He didn't even try to deny it.

"You know?"

"About Benson? Yes, I know!"

"Well..."

"Please," she moaned, clasping her hands together, "Just let him go! He needs immediate medical attention! He's dying!"

Her father sighed, and he saw him glance to the floor in guilt.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, princess," he whispered as he arose from his desk chair.

"Why not?" she yelled, her heart thudding, "Please… just let him go!"

"Elsa, honey, he tried to kidnap you for God sakes! What were you thinking? How could you just go along with it… are you insane!? Be logical, dear, how could I not arrest him?"

Elsa had to hold back a gulp. So, he really did know everything about their plan. Well, at least that would save her some explaining time...

"He was trying to help me, dad," Elsa exclaimed, her bottom lip quivering. "He cares about me. He only wanted me to be hap—"

He interrupted her with a loud, sharp laugh. She never knew he could emit such a cold sound. It burned her cheeks in shame.

"Do you really think that he cared about you at all?" her father asked, shaking his head as if she were the biggest fool he'd ever met. "He was using you, Elsa. You're the future queen of Arendelle, think about how much you're worth! All he wanted was to hold you for ransom, you mean nothing to him!"

At this, a rush of hot anger swam through Elsa's body. It was a lie, she knew it was. She clenched her fists tight, feeling the prick of ice at her fingertips, but now knowing enough to keep it held inside. At least for the moment.

"You don't understand!" she yelled at him, her eyes flashing. "When I use my powers, its easier for me to control them! Holding them back just doesn't work… Benson was the one who figured that out! You have to help him!"

Elsa stared at him with wide, wild eyes for what could of been no more than five minutes. But still, that was too long. She had absolutely no idea about what was happening below her in that exact, short span of time. She had no idea of the horrors she was a second away from facing.

For a good long time, her father looked like he was about to say something, but right before his tongue could curve to form his first world, a loud knock rang out of the door behind her, and someone entered. It was a guard, and he didn't look very friendly

"It is done," the man said firmly. Elsa's father nodded solemnly, gave a short thanks, and then the man left. The crash of the door closing echoed eerily around the room.

"What does he mean 'it is done?'" Elsa asked, suddenly terrified. "What's done?"

Her father sighed, but she could see the smile on his lips. "You really want to know, Elsa?"

"Yes! Tell me!"

"Are you sure...?"

"YES! Please!"

His eyes glinted with angry glee, and when he finally muttered the next sentence between his lips, the girl's entire world froze. "Benson's execution. Your little friend is dead..."

"NO!"

She couldn't keep herself from screaming. Couldn't keep her soul from dying a thousand painful deaths all at the same time. Benson wasn't dead… he just couldn't be! She absolutely, one-hundred percent, refused to believe it. There were so many things she hadn't had a chance to tell him. So much gratitude she hadn't a chance to share. So many future experiences, so many memories-to-be, that would now never be able to become reality. It was too horrible to be true. Too much of a nightmare. For the longest moment, time had seemed to stop. Everything was over. Not him... anybody but him...

Before she fully understood what she was doing, or even why she was doing it, Elsa was sprinting out of her father's study, running right on down the hallway, with no destination in mind. Her feet, however, must have known exactly where she was going, because before long she found herself right back inside the ballroom. Standing in the exact same spot that she had sat crying only three years before. She just needed to get away from these lies... these horrible, horrible lies...

She needed to get away from the truth.

When she turned around, however, she realized that she had failed. Her father stood right behind her, now. He had followed her all the way here, and currently less than ten feet away, he stared at her, his mouth stretched out in a thin, angry line.

"How dare you," Elsa whispered, the tears cracking her voice. "How dare you do that to him… to me! You killed him… _You killed him_!"

She hadn't wanted to say it out loud just yet, but it seemed she had no choice. She wanted her father to hear what he had done. She wanted him to _pay._

"And he deserved nothing more, that crook. No one shall brainwash the princess of Arendelle and expect to get away with it unharmed."

Elsa couldn't stop herself from scoffing. "Really? Is that so?" she asked, the anger beginning to flair up again, "And what about _you_, father? What about the way you've brainwashed me my _entire_ life. Made me believe that I was some kind of monster! I know better now! It may have taken a servant to help me realize it, but now I do! _My powers are a blessing, not a curse!"_

Out of the sheer fury now blossoming inside the center of her chest, Elsa began to release her spurts of ice, letting them cling to the wall behind her and climb up like a frozen spider web. It wasn't an accident this time, though. She was doing it on purpose. She wanted to freeze this room. _She wanted to freeze this whole castle._

"ELSA!" her father bellowed, his voice shaking the entire room. "Your powers are dangerous, you cannot deny that, and I've only done what I thought would keep you from turning into the monster you're clearly becoming!"

"I AM NOT A MONSTER!" Elsa shrieked, icicles beginning to hang down from the windows. "If anything, _you are_! You're the one who murdered Benson, you're the one who tortured that woman, you're the one who's kept me locked in a room for _six_ entire years! NOT ME! I may have hurt Anna once, but it was an _accident_. This… the things you've done… were not. And I know I can never forgive you for them!"

"Calm down," her father said, though the anger was evident in his voice. "Just calm down, Elsa, you're causing a scene!"

She practically growled at him, she couldn't help it. "I don't care! I don't care about anything anymore! You've just murdered the only person in the entire _world_ who cares about me… how am I _supposed_ to react?"

Her father grit his teeth, rubbing them together in fury.

"And you don't think your mother and _I_ care about you? Everything we've ever done was for you! Everything!"

"NO," she shouted, "It's all been for _yourselves!_ You're embarrassed of me, aren't you? You think I'm a _freak_, and a _monster_, and you were just afraid of the entire kingdom finding out about it. You didn't want me to hurt your precious, darling daughter Anna, so you've forced me to stay away from her for years! Have you forgotten that _I'm _your daughter _too? _Of course you have! You don't care about me at all! You just want to control me because you're afraid of me! _You're afraid of me!_"

At this point, Elsa was nearly gasping for breath. These things she was saying… they weren't things she'd ever thought of before. It was as if they'd just been hiding at the back of her conscious for all of those years, too afraid to come out into the open. But now they were out, and Elsa knew that, though slightly dramatic, they held an undeniable shade of truth. One that she simply couldn't ignore for any longer. Suddenly, one of the windows behind her shattered, and a burst of snowy wind entered the room, blowing particles of ice everywhere. Elsa's braid whipped her face, and her dress danced violently around her ankles, but she just didn't care. She stood there, fury flashing through her eyes, her hands balled into fists at her side. For a moment, she was quiet, letting the wind scream for her.

"We were only trying to fix you, Elsa."

"Well stop! BECAUSE I'M NOT BROKEN!"

An infuriated, charged sort of silence broke out in the air, or it would have, had the wind not been howling like a wolf at a full moon. The tension was so thick and palpable around them, they could have chocked on it.

"Everything you said before... those are lies and you know it!" shouted her father suddenly, his face a boiling red, "Your mother and I love you more than anything!"

"THEN PROVE IT!" Her voice was so loud and furious, it scared her, and suddenly the wind reached an abrupt stop. Everything went silent for a moment. All that could be heard was Elsa's quick, worried breathing.

"If you loved me," she whispered, tears of fury and hopelessness spilling down her cheeks, "Then you would let me go. I just… can't be here anymore. I'll go up to the mountains, even without Benson, and I'll make it. I'll use and my powers and learn how to control them and then… then I can be free. Please, daddy, please. You don't understand. Just trust me and let me go. I'm begging you."

She was pleading with him now, despite her pride, the tears flooding from her eyes and her knees all the sudden feeling very weak and wobbly. Her father just stared at her in silence.

"_Please_," she repeated, "If you really love me, the way that Benson loved me, then you'll let me go."

For a single, beautiful moment, he almost looked as if he would do it. As if he was actually considering her proposal. Before she could think logically, a well of hope sprung up in the center of Elsa's chest. _He was actually going to say yes! _Then, whatever spark that had ignited her father's heart had suddenly gone out, and the ignorance flashed over his face again.

"I-I can't," he responded, "I can't… I won't! Elsa, you're insane!"

The wind started up again. Her fury returned.

"You're being stubborn," she shouted angrily, now glaring at him, "You're being a fool! Any truly great king would understand that if one law doesn't work, it makes no sense to keep on enforcing it. You must try another one! Don't you get it? Flexibility is the most important quality of a rising empire!"

"You know nothing about raising an empire!" stormed her father.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT RAISING A DAUGHTER!"

Her words were loud and angry and terrifying, but at that moment, she meant them. She really, truly meant them. Her father's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed her hate. She didn't care… she hated him, too.

"You are growing up into a wicked woman, Elsa," he finally responded, eyes ablaze, "I am so disappointed in you."

She could have exploded right then and there. In fact, she almost did. The wind was getting wilder, now. Snow dancing in the air, ice crawling across every available surface. And it wasn't even an accident. She was doing it. She wanted to do it.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!" she screeched, "I DON'T CARE! I DON'T CARE! I DON'T—"

The door to the ballroom suddenly swung open, causing Elsa to stop in mid-sentence. Immediately, a little flash of strawberry-blond hair caught her eye... Anna. Anna was here.

Before she even knew what she was doing, before she could even think it through, Elsa stopped. Everything. The wind stopped howling, the ice stopped crawling, her shrill voice stopped screaming. Quick as a field mouse, she wiped her hands on the front of her dress, getting rid of any trace of the frost still coating her fingertips.

"Is everything alright in here? I thought I heard some weird noises."

Anna was peaking her head inside the doorway, her hands placed delicately on the flat-surface of the wood. She must have just woken up, even though it was half an hour until noon, as her hair was a monster of tangles behind her head. She was still dressed in her froggy-green nightgown, and even with her so far away, Elsa could see a bit of dried drool sticking to her chin.

"Yes, Anna, everything is fine," said her father calmly, as if he hadn't just been screaming his lungs out the moment before. "Last night the snowstorm shattered the window. It left ice and snow everywhere. Elsa was just showing it to me, so that it could be cleaned up."

He turned to Elsa, who still stood frozen at her spot against the wall.

"Isn't that right, Elsa, dear?"

For a moment, her mouth felt stuck closed. This was her chance, right here and now, to come clean and tell Anna the truth. She'd let her know just how horrible, how monstrous, their parents were, and then the two of them would escape using Elsa's ice powers. They would run away into the mountains and be stowaways together. It would be perfect. Just the two of them. Her and her sister, the only person _left_ in the world who wouldn't think she was a monster even if she knew about her powers. The plan was too wonderful. For a moment, Elsa couldn't breathe.

But then… she looked into Anna's eyes. Those big, wide, innocent eyes. They were so young and hopeful. They had a life ahead of them. Not just any life, but a beautiful, flawless, princess life. How could she take that all away from her? If they ran into the mountains, Elsa knew perfectly well that Anna would always be cold, and starving, and unhappy. The mountains was no place for her. _This_ place was for her. And their parents… oh, their parents. Anna was still at that age where she was sure they were absolutely perfect. She couldn't see their flaws, didn't know the horrible truth. It would be a terrifying blow to the heart if she was pushed to see them the way they truly were. Suddenly, Elsa couldn't do it. She couldn't take away Anna's childhood innocence, couldn't demolish her bright future. She just couldn't. She wasn't _that_ much of a monster.

"Yes, Father," she said slowly, "That's right."

Her father gave her an all-knowing, arrogant smile, and Elsa felt a swirl of hatred beginning to build right back up inside her again, but she pushed in back down. Not now. Not ever.

"Elsa was just leaving now to go to her tutor… Samuel? Johnson? Would you two mind escorting her?"

Samuel and Johnson were the two guards whose job it was to bring her to her dungeon. She hadn't even realized they'd been standing there. Slowly, feeling the burning shame of failure, Elsa walked over to them. They each grabbed one of her arms, leading her out of the ballroom.

"Anna, princess, stay here for a moment," her father shouted out just as Anna had tried to follow the three of them. "I need to speak to you!"

Anna nodded and approached him, and Elsa hung down her head in sadness. Of course, he had nothing to say to the girl, he just wanted to make sure she didn't see her older sister being caged up. Because that was what they were going to do to her… and who knew for how long.

Fifteen minutes later, Elsa was being shoved into a familiar, square-shaped dungeon. Her hands were fitted in the shackles very hastily, and though the tightness of them burned her wrists, she did not complain. Nor did she try and get the guards to stay with her, this time. She didn't need them. She hated them both.

When the door had been shut and locked up tight, Elsa looked around. The bed was still there, though this time it was more than just a frame. Someone had finally bothered to put a mattress on it.

_Oh, how considerate of them,_ Elsa thought coldly as she threw herself upon it, noticing how it was little more comfortable than the floor.

Laying her head down to sleep, Elsa was sure of one thing, and one thing only.

Whatever game she and her father had been playing for the past six years, she had lost. It was over. Elsa's future had never looked so bleak, never looked so empty and cold and hopeless.

Her life was over. That was more than clear.

* * *

><p><strong>Is it bad that I like to torture Elsa so much? Yeah, it probably is... but at least it makes good literature. I don't know why, but I've always enjoyed writing more emotional, depressing scenes (I want to be an author when I'm older, so I write a lot), and I think this chapter definitely counted as 'emotional and depressing.'<strong>

**So, I want to know... what did you guys think? Did you like it? Was it what you expected? Was it as epic as I told you it would be? I hope so, because I practically had an emotional breakdown writing this story, I was so excited. I get a little more into writing than I probably should... XD.**

**It really isn't as well written as I would have liked it to be, but like I said, I was just too excited to wait any longer. In a day or two I'll probably revise it a little to make it smoother and add some much-needed details.**

**Well, I hope you liked! Remember to review! I'll see you all next week!**


	6. The Mirror

**Hey there, everyone! It's update time again!**

**Ok, so as I mentioned before (in chapter four, or something), the events that occurred in fourteen-year-old Elsa's life were sort of like a turning point for her. Every event before had led up to it, and every event after had occurred because of it. That being said, this chapter and the next one are mainly going to focus on how Elsa went from being that powerful, confident girl she was when she confronted her father in his studies, to that reclusive and fearful woman she was at the beginning of the movie.**

**This chapter is shorter than the others (only slightly) because I initially meant it to be only a small part of my next chapter. However, I (being my rambling self) ended up extending it so excessively, that if I even dared to add on everything else I wanted, the chapter would've been so long that you would've probably exploded. So, to save valuable lives, I've decided to split my initial idea into two chapters. Don't worry, though, there's not much of a cliff hanger. The transition is pretty smooth, so I'm sure you won't die waiting.**

**Well... you can start reading now, I guess. Hope you like!**

* * *

><p>Much to her own surprise, Elsa ended up staying in the dungeon for only two more nights before her guards came to release her. Though she hated to see them again-the men who had so willing followed her father's evil words-she couldn't deny that she was not at least a little bit relieved to be getting out of there.<p>

Ever since the day she had been thrown inside her dank little prison-cell, the girl had been surrounded by a deathly quiet unlike anything that had ever existed in her lonesome, isolated bedroom. A silence so deafening, so mind-numbing in all its fury, that all thoughts, all emotions, seemed to cease. It wasn't something Elsa had ever experienced before, nor was it something she ever wanted to experience again. It was, in its own way, both relaxing and horrifying.

She remembered sitting on her block of a bed, staring at the stone wall into nothingness, when she heard the click of the door ring out into the shallow room. She thought it was just one of the guards coming to bring her a meal, again, but when they both trudged in with empty hands, she knew they had come for her.

As one of the guards, the nicer of the two, moved to unlock the cups encompassing her wrists, Elsa stood stalk still, refusing to even acknowledge him. He struggled for a moment, and when he finally managed to pull them off completely, she watched with pleasure as his eyes went wide with horror. She didn't blame him, really. It was quite a gruesome picture. She struggled hard to fight the smile threatening to spill out across her lips.

Both of her hands, now, were raw and red, her skin patchy and bleeding from a thousand little cuts drawn like crayon all over her palms. Elsa would have been surprised, too, had she not been expecting this.

The chains she had worn had been painfully tight to begin with, and for the past forty-eight hours or so, she hadn't had anything but her own twisted memories to entertain herself. So, purely as a way to distract herself, she had spent the entire time wringing and turning her wrists in the cups, feeling the way the metal dug into her gentle skin and cut up her fingers. Somehow, she found herself loving that burn. The physical pain distracted her, if only for a moment, from the emotional stab in her heart, and she was willing to do anything to make that go away.

She knew it was insane to be thinking that way, but at the moment, sanity seemed like a much more painful option.

Now, when the man looked at her, his eyebrows raised in question, Elsa answered with the most obnoxiously vague sentence that she could think of.

"They were tight."

Once the kneeled guard had gotten to his feet and was ready to escort her, Elsa followed the two of them in angry obedience, allowing herself to be led out the door. She stopped and waited as they went to lock it, expecting them to keep walking when they were finished, but her suspicions were proven wrong when the nicer of the guards—his name was apparently Samuel—leaned down to talk to her.

"You're father sends his sincerest regards for what happened some nights ago," Samuel said formally, his large chest heaving forward as he breathed, "He apologizes for the words he said, but claims that he stands by his actions."

Elsa's eyes narrowed in hate.

"And why didn't he just tell me that himself?"

Samuel gave a sheepish smile.

"He requests that you meet him in his studies when you are ready and able to discuss things like adults. Understand? Just between the two of us, I would suggest that you take up his offer. It's not everyday that the king pardons you for behaving like that, you're lucky he didn't demand you be kept in that dungeon for a year."

Elsa nodded slowly, her burning hate dulling down to a stinging anger.

"I understand," she replied, and she did. She understood that her father was a no-good, murdering, _coward _of a man, and that she would not for the life of her ever even _think_ about speaking to him 'like an adult.'

After that, it didn't take long for her to be trudged upstairs and thrown into her room, her guards Johnson and Samuel not even bothering to apologize for the roughness before slamming the door behind them, going back to wherever the hell they came from in the first place. Elsa glared at the back of their heads as they went out, not caring that they didn't notice, just trying to find a way to burn out some of the remaining fumes of her anger.

It took a few seconds after the slamming of the door for her to realize that she was alone. It took only an instant after that for her to break down.

She hadn't cried in the dungeon—she couldn't, really, the seclusion was numbing, and her anger and frustration were all fizzled out—but here, in the place that she and Benson had spent so much of their time together, the desperation flooded into Elsa's chest as quick and painful as if someone had punched her in the gut, and before she even realized they had filled her eyes, she felt the tears carve their way down her face like rivers in a bed of soil. Unlike Anna, whose infrequent bawling could be heard throughout the entire castle as loud, earsplitting wails and sobs, Elsa's crying was silent. The water dripped down her face without her releasing so much as a squeak, and the only sound able to picked up by the ear was the soft, nearly inaudible 'clink' as her now-frozen chunks of sorrow shattered against the hard ground.

Elsa knew she was too old to be sobbing like this. She was turning fifteen in a matter of weeks, now, and she sat here like a sulking two-year-old. Crying was a sign of weakness, her father would say if he had known, and she had to be strong. That was what her parents always said to her, ever since she was just a little girl. She had to be strong. When you were the ice princess of Arendelle, you simply couldn't afford weakness.

She'd never wished more in her life that she could be someone, _anyone_, else.

Knowing she couldn't continue like this forever, Elsa slowly drew her hands to her face, pressing her palms against her eyes and begging them to swallow back up the water. When she was sure they whatever was left was contained, she quickly rubbed her hands down her cheeks, scrubbing off the remaining traces of frost. If there was one thing Elsa had learned after nearly fifteen years of being a princess, it was composure.

Good. The tears had stopped. That was progress, she supposed. The only problem with it was that now she could feel all the pain beginning to build right back up inside her, again. Feel it stirring and spinning and _begging_for a way out. And her fingers tingled. They tingled for… for… ice. For snow. For frost, and winter, and cold. But no. Not now. She was done with that.

Before she could stop herself, her feet had brought her to her balcony. To the place where she and Benson had spent countless hours together, looking out over the land, plans of the future swimming in their heads and childish hope blooming in their hearts. If only they had known… if only they had known…

Elsa felt herself step forward, felt the way her hand rested gently on the railing separating herself from the outside world, but barely registered why. All she knew was that she simply couldn't get enough of the blanket of white that now decorated the ground below her. Of the fat, heavy snowflakes that danced throughout the air. Of the wind that screamed in her ear and kissed her face with its icy blast. She was sure it must have been freezing outside, but she couldn't feel any of it. The cold never bothered her, anyway.

This was one of those huge blizzards that Benson had told her about. She was sure, had he still been alive, that this would've been the night that the two of them left. He would've come into her room in the morning, seen her staring out at the winter wonderland with a cloudy look in her eyes, and before she had the chance to ask him the question that was stirring so rapidly in her mind, he would've answer it.

"We're going tonight," he would say, and Elsa's heart would be pounding with excitement, and the glint in his eyes would be stronger than ever before, and they… and they… would be happy. They would have been so happy. What had happened?

Despite herself, Elsa shivered. Five days ago, merely five short days ago, she and Benson had sat standing on this very balcony, staring at the flurry of snow just beginning to touch the sky. They had walked inside, so much hope bubbling inside them, and when she had asked if they could leave yet, Benson had told her that they'd have plenty of chances. And she had believed him. Oh, why did she believe him? She was such a child, such a fool. But not anymore.

Elsa's lungs heaved in her chest, her eyes shut tight as she struggled to hold in a tear that was once again threatening to spill down her cheeks. She knew she shouldn't be thinking about him, it was only causing herself more pain, but she simply couldn't stop herself. She was too weak.

She shouldn't have brought up Anna. That was where it had all gone wrong. She had already known the answer to the question she had asked him, yet in childlike ignorance she had asked him anyway, and now he was dead. All because of her. It was so stupid... _she_ was stupid.

Elsa barely processed what was happening as, slowly, she began to lift one of her legs over the railing of the balcony. Without hesitation, the other one followed. Now she was sitting on top of it, all her weight pressed down on one measly section of metal. The wind rushed through her hair. The snow crawled between her fingertips. She didn't care.

The crueler of her guards, his name was Johnson, had entered her dungeon two times a day to bring her meals, and whenever he had the chance, he'd told her stories about Benson. Stories about what had happened to the poor servant in those three days when he had went missing. They were horrible stories. That's the only way she could describe them.

Elsa would sit there on the stone ground, her hands bound up and her eyes so bleak and tired, as Johnson looked down on her, an evil smirk stretched across his face and a cruel glint playing in his eye. She didn't like that. Only Benson was allowed to have a glint in his eye, because his glint was beautiful. Johnson's was monstrous.

She'd listened in silence as Johnson's harsh, sharp voice cut through into her mind, telling her about the way Benson had been forced to kneel on the cold, hard ground as his back was slashed over and over again with sharpened knives. About the way his face had been slammed repeatedly into the bars of his prison, until his nose had broken and his lip had split to the point of no recover. About the way his wrists had been pressed against a searing furnace until his skin had been reduced to a crisp, and the smell of burning flesh was thick and nauseating in the air. About the way they had starved him, wafting the smell of freshly-cooked meals towards his cell and setting a tray of juicy boar's meat right out of his reach, so that he could watch in desire as the cockroaches nibbled it away. Each time Johnson talked, Elsa visualized. She saw it all happening as if she had actually been there as a witness. She was not merely listening to his stories... she was _living _them.

During a particularly gruesome tale, where Johnson had described to her how huge, metal chains had been wrapped around Benson's limbs, Elsa had felt a swirl of hatred beginning to swell up in the center of her chest, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. As his mouth spilled upon her such bitter venom, Elsa had willed herself not to listen, to not pay attention to words that would surely bring her nightmares for years to come. She tried so desperately to tune him out, but she knew by now that trying did not necessarily mean succeeding. Somehow, she heard him as loudly and clearly as if she had been hanging on to everything he said. She just wasn't strong enough to ignore him. She had to know.

When Johnson had looked to her, smiling insanely, he had explained how Benson's chains had been pulled tighter and tighter around him, his bones cracking at the pressure, to the point where the boy had been reduced to tears, finally broken, crying and begging them to end the torture. And at that moment-the image of a tearful, broken Benson still swimming horribly throughout her brain-Elsa had looked right back at Johnson, and for the first time in her entire life, she had wanted to _kill_ someone. Not just to kill him, but to torture him and freeze him and _destroy _him to the point of no recover, just like the way he had destroyed Benson. He deserved to be destroyed, that monster, that fool, that coward.

She wanted him to _suffer._

Back on the railing, Elsa took a deep breath. Her eyes closed, she swallowed the snowy air and tried to drown her lungs in its chilly moisture, hanging onto reality in the only way she knew how. She didn't want to go back to that dark moment. She didn't want to go back ever again.

Slowly, her body failing to refer back to her brain, Elsa let her backside slip from the railing. The heels of her feet were just small enough to squeeze through the bars behind her, and her hands were still griping tightly onto the sturdy structure, and so she stood like that for a few seconds. She was so close to freedom now, she could practically taste it. Now there were no bars standing in her way. It was just her, and the snow, and the wind. This was what freedom was supposed to feel like. This was what she had been fighting for for so, so long. What _he _had been fighting to give her...

_Beheading._

The word filled her head, so sudden and random and unexpected, that for a moment, Elsa nearly collapsed on the spot. She didn't understand why she had even thought of it... it had come without even a warning, without even a reason. Suddenly, it was just there. Overcoming her with dread. Destroying her with thoughts of _him_.

That was how Benson died. That was his execution.

She remembered how that had been one of the first things that Johnson had told her, and how painful it had been for her to hear it. He had described to her the way the boy had been told the time of his execution hours in advance, direct orders from her father himself, so that he had an excruciating wait for his own demise. The way he had been led into the torture chamber, forced to lay his head on the stony, bloody ground, as a large man with an axe had ascended before him. The way a single tear had slipped down his cheek at that last moment, his eyes closed tightly and his mind a thousand miles away. The way that, when he was asked for his last words, all he had said was "Elsa." No sentence to go along with it, no reason given, just her name. Elsa. That was all he could say.

The girl could barely process the fact that her name was the last word that had ever been on his lips, the last thought that had ever been on his mind, when the axe had swung down onto his fragile little neck. It took three swings, she was told. Three swings and his head had detached completely, shooting across the room, lolling hopelessly on the floor. It, along with the rest of his body, had been incinerated in a furnace. That had been his funeral. A man as great as him, and all he had to leave behind was a pile of smoke and ash.

Suddenly, the freedom Elsa had felt so powerfully before had begun to fade. She felt stifled, contained, trapped in her own body. The bars were still too close to her. She could feel them. They pressed against her back, holding her, pulling her into that nightmare of a castle. Into that nightmare of a life. The bars were both her protection, and her confinement. But she'd had enough of things-_of people_-like that. She didn't want it anymore. She didn't want it at all.

Her better judgment must have been sick that day, for what Elsa did next was not only stupid, but completely insane. She simply unlocked her elbows, which stood firm and stable at her sides, and leaned forward. Leaned into the winter.

Her feet were still planted firmly behind her, and her fingers were still wrapped around the bars quite tightly, but now the majority of her body stood over an a hundred feet drop, nothing but a light pile of snow to cushion the ground below her. The wind was wild, and her dress danced wickedly around her, but when Elsa first looked around, she was not afraid. She was well aware of her height at the moment, and of the fact that she was being held up here by nothing but her own shaky strength, and that at any moment now she could be pushed by the wind to her impending doom, but she simply didn't care enough to pull away. She couldn't care, because the swirl of snow around her was simply too beautiful. The tip of her white, ice-incrusted braid was just visible swinging around in the corner of her vision, and it made her feel as if she was a _part_ of the snow, somehow. She was not Princess Elsa, soon-to-be queen of Arendelle with a monster of a father and a pit of despair in place of her heart, she was the Ice Princess, just another snowflake drifting beautifully through the wind, spreading ice and snow wherever she dared to tread. Not a worry in sight. No pain, no feelings, no anything. Just winter. Eternal winter. And she loved that.

For a moment, she was sure she was flying. Her bloody fingers went numb. Her feet were nonexistent. She could have lived like this forever, just a part of the air around her. She really could've. Very slowly, Elsa felt as a pair of her fingers slipped from the railing. Than another. And a third.

She had dwindled down to two fingers on each hand, now. Her life hanging onto those four, measly sticks of flesh. She could feel the air beneath her. She knew, now more than ever, that if she let those last fleshy fingers slip away, she would plummet to the Earth below. The snow on the ground would grasp her in its icy clutches, pull her into a powdery hug, and she would dissolve into it. Dissolve into the snow and _become_ the snow, and she would never be Princess Elsa again. Always, she would be the Ice Princess. And somehow, she knew, Benson would be down there, too. Ready and willing to pull her to his chest and hold her close and become snow right with her. The two of them, snow, side by side. For all eternity.

Benson had known he was about to be executed. He had known for hours before she had found him, so close to death, huddling in the way back of his cell. And he had wanted her to stay with him, to be with him during his final moments. That was more than clear to her, now. And what had she done to repay him for all he'd done for her? She'd left him. Left him to die all alone, with no one but merciless strangers to say goodbye to. She had pulled away from his grasping hand, turned her cheek to his final words, unable to accept the truth. And he had died alone.

Elsa knew deep in her heart that she would always hold guilt for that. Always hold guilt for not being there for him when he had needed her the most. But if she fell, if she went to greet him right here and now, she knew he would forgive her. He wouldn't care that she had left him. Because they would be together again, and that was all that would matter. That was all that would matter.

Elsa smiled. She let one pair of her fingers slip off. She was hanging on by her index fingers now. They had hooked delicately around the pole, but were struggling against its mere width. They screamed for a break. Her joints ached. She wanted so badly to just let go. To sleep. To sleep…

Elsa's eyes slowly slipped close. She could still feel the wind slapping against her face, the frost clinging to her hair, but now everything was in a peaceful blackness. She was all ready, now. Ready to let go and see Benson and become the snow with him. It was okay. It really would all be okay. She was going to be free, she was really going to be free...

...

...

..

.

And then… Anna.

It was a simple thought, really. So short and sweet and unimportant. Just a name. A reminder of Elsa's childhood before she completely left it behind. But, at the moment, it was the last thing she wanted to cross her mind.

A sharp sense of reason, sweet and viscous as honey, began to surge through the girl's veins, overcoming her fantasies and melting away her aching sense of freedom. No, no, no. Not Anna... anybody but Anna. That strawberry blond hair, and those wide, innocent eyes, and that wonderfully childish smile. Why did she have to pop into her mind at the worst of times? Suddenly, Elsa's eyes sprang wide open. She became very aware of the fact that she was seconds away from plummeting to her doom. Of killing herself.

How would Anna feel? Losing a sister like this… not in just any way, but to the cold, dark arms of a welcoming death. That was the worst thing the girl could ever possibly experience. Just two days before, Elsa had given up her own_ freedom_ to save her sister's innocence. But this? Ending her own life was _certainly_ going to terminate Anna's short, lonely childhood, and yet here Elsa stood anyway, ready to be the selfish person she was and do what she thought was best for _herself_. Ready to give up because she wasn't ready to fight any longer.

What kind of person _was_ she? She couldn't do this! She was Anna's older sister, she needed to protect her! And if she needed to be alive to do that, go through all the pain and deal with all the truth so that Anna didn't have to, then so be it. Elsa would gladly do that. Because Anna still had a chance to be happy, and it was Elsa's job to make sure the girl didn't fall to the same tragedy that she herself did. It was her sisterly duty. There was no arguing against that.

She had to put the living before the dead. That was always a priority.

Very slowly, her muscles straining and her hands on fire, Elsa leaned backwards. She hooked her fingers right back against the bars, and with all the strength she could muster, pulled herself to sit on top of the railing. When she finally turned her body so that her feet once again rested comfortably on the balcony, Elsa's heart was thudding painfully in her chest. Her eyes were straining just to stay open, and she felt so lightheaded and dizzy that the world spun with every step she took. Only one thought propelled her forward. It was not a happy thought, but a determined one.

_She would not die today. For Anna, she would live._

In what felt like hours, though could've only been a few minutes, Elsa managed to shuffle inside and plop herself right down on top of her bed, feeling the cushiony softness overcome her. Despite her own logic, the image of Benson's face crossed her mind, and rather than push it away, she let herself dissolve into it. That shining, hopeful spark in his eyes. That wash of dark hair that always covered his forehead. That plain, genuine handsomeness of his face. She watched, in emptiness, as it all went away. The spark was replaced by hopelessness. His hair became matted and drenched in blood. His face became twisted and gruesome, painted in black and blue. Benson. Her father had killed him. Her father was a monster.

But she was determined not to be the same.

For a moment—a wonderful, exhilarating moment where her heart seemed to regain the spark that it had lost—a childish plan began to form inside Elsa's head. Samuel, her other guard, seemed to her to be a genuinely nice person. She remembered the way, so many years ago, he had looked to her with such sympathy when she had begged him to stay in the dungeon with her. She could recall quite clearly the look of concern on his face when he had observed her bloody wrists, and the kindness in his voice as he talked to her about her father. He seemed like the type of person who would feel guilt about the things Elsa's father had done to her. Who would, deep down, know that what he did was simply not right. Elsa was a reclusive, wallowing teenage girl, and though she knew she could be rather cold at times, she was also sure that she could summon some princess-like charm if she really needed to. She could, somehow, win Samuel over. Convince him to love her just like Benson loved her, and get him to not only help her escape, but _want_ to go and live with her. She could actually do it, she knew she could! Her life wasn't over yet!

But of course, that thought only lasted a split second, and in a moment, Elsa was back to sulking under the covers. She couldn't do that. Her first plan had led to the death of the only person in the entire world who she could open up to, and she was most definitely not going to try it again. She couldn't be responsible for the demise of yet another person she loved… she just couldn't. It would destroy her. As if she hadn't been destroyed enough already.

Oh, what had she been thinking? She wasn't going to escape again, those days were over. Whatever was left of her pitiful childhood had long since seeped away. She was going to spend the rest of her life hidden away in the confines of this castle. That was more than clear. It was time for her to just give up.

But then again... Benson wouldn't have wanted that. He'd have wanted her to go out there and keep fighting, keep pushing her way to freedom. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. Wherever he was now, heaven or hell or just floating around in nothingness, he would have to understand. She just couldn't do this anymore. She was tired of fighting. Tired of trying to feel the beautiful things, trying to live life the way it was meant to be lived, only to end up being hurt. She was done. Submission was her new name. From here on out, she was going to be the good girl. The quiet girl, the nice girl, the obedient girl. Anything to keep this pain away. Anything.

_Sorry, Benson, _Elsa thought to herself, squinting her eyes closed in concentration, _I just can't do this anymore. Please understand. We tried, and we failed, and its time to move on. We were childish, and now its time to be adults. Or, at least, for ME to be an adult. You… just enjoy yourself, up there. Please, you deserve it._

She figured, if he really was living it up in heaven, he was probably worrying his heart out for her. That was just the kind of guy he was. He cared about her. Elsa had always, secretly, imagined that when the two of them went out to live in the mountains together, they would eventually fall in love. At that time, the age difference between them had turned their relationship into a more brother/sister sort of thing, but Elsa was quite aware that the older two people got, the less age difference seemed to matter. The two of them were only five years apart, anyway, and even Elsa's own parents had a greater difference than that. So, really, it all made sense to her. Elsa knew that _eventually_ she'd have to find someone and get married and do all that stuff that married people do, it was inevitable, and there was no reason in her mind why that couldn't be with Benson. It saved her a lot of time and effort trying to open up to yet _another_ person. Of course, the idea of all that strange 'physical stuff' that relationships require worried her, mostly because of her powers, but she'd always assumed that Benson would figure it out somehow. He was a smart guy. He'd find a way, he'd always find a way.

Well, Elsa was certain now that Benson would never end up being 'the love of her life,' and she felt foolish for ever believing so. For ever believing that something as silly as 'true love' even existed. She would be queen one day, and as expected of her, would arrange a marriage for herself with whichever suitor offered the largest benefit to her kingdom. That was her only option. There would be not 'true love,' no finding a man who understood her and loved her for who she was inside. That stuff just wasn't logical. To _think_ she had ever thought about marrying a servant… it was insane.

She'd heard more than one time that princesses were supposed to live out fairytale lives, but now, as she sat on her bed replaying her gruesome past and drawing the plans for her bleak future, she was absolutely, one-hundred-percent positive that she was living proof that not all did. She was the exception. She always had been.

…

When Elsa finally managed to scrape herself from her bed, the dizziness subsiding enough so that it was not such a choir to stand, the first thing she did was stumble over to the mirror in the corner of her room. She figured, really, the first step to trying to be a good little princess was to, at least, look the part. Since she'd spent the last two days of her life rotting away in a dungeon, she figured she'd have a lot of work to do. Boy, was she right.

After walking far enough to catch a glimpse of her reflection, Elsa groaned. She looked absolutely horrid, at the moment. Enough so that even looking at herself made her cringe. The stress of the last few days had certainly gotten to her. Though, in all fairness, who could blame her?

Her hair, for one thing, was in complete shambles. Her braid was barely recognizable anymore, now just a matted ball of white attached to the back of her head, and was still flecked with tiny ice crystals. Individual pieces of hair flew off in every which direction, making the girl looked fuzzy and disheveled. She'd certainly have to do something about that.

Very carefully, Elsa dug her fingers into the nest on her head, not stopping until she could feel her hair tie stuck between her fingers. It took her forever to finally manage to unweave it from the rest of her head, but when she did, her hair flopped down onto her back almost immediately. Long and thick and tangled. Elsa gawked at it for a moment. She could hardly remember the last time she'd seen her hair down like this, before. She never fixed her braid in front of a mirror, and her mother had always told her that it was wild and unladylike for a girl to wear her hair freely. For a moment, Elsa was tempted to leave it as it was, but then she remembered her new goal, and quickly pushed her dream aside. Grabbing a brush from her bedside table, Elsa took a deep breath. This would hurt… she just knew it.

It took Elsa a good fifteen minutes to finish brushing out her numerous stubborn tangles, but by the time her scalp had gone numb from being yanked in every which direction, her hair was as a cool and silky as it had always been. In satisfaction, the girl ran her hand through it, feeling the way it flowed through her fingers like water. This would be the last time she would ever see it down like this, she was sure of it.

Elsa braided her white river as neatly and delicately as she could. When she was done, however, she looked at it with dissatisfaction. It was too childish looking, too free. Just not queen-like enough. After a moments thought, Elsa took her braid and twisted it into an intricate knot, pinning it up onto the top of her hair. Only then did she allow herself a weak smile. Perfect. It was very tight and formal-looking; her parents were sure to love it.

Now that her hair was nice and clean, Elsa turned her attention back to the mirror. The next, most obvious problem was her dress. After sitting in that dungeon for so long, it had picked up a good number of smudges and stains, coated in many places with ash and dust. In still other sections, however, spots of ice and snow stuck to the fabric, there from just moments ago when she had stood on the balcony. Of course, just by wearing these strips of clothe, she looked like a complete slob. That wouldn't do, either.

Careful not to mess up her perfected hairdo, Elsa quickly slipped off her casual gown, standing in her room in just her undergarments. She rummaged through her closest until she found the longest, most modest dress she owned. It was very formal-looking, not even daring to show the skin on her ankles or the whiteness of her neck. It was exactly what she was looking for. Gingerly, Elsa pulled it on. It was tight in all the wrong places, and far too uncomfortable to wear on a day-to-day basis, but when Elsa looked in the mirror, she looked like a real queen. So she'd just have to learn to deal with it, then. These were the types of dresses she'd be wearing from now on.

Looking back at the mirror, the deepest part of her beginning to hate that stupid, reflexive glass, Elsa took in the last detail of herself that needed changing. Her eyes. After crying for so many hours, they were puffy and red, sticking out horribly against her pale skin. From lack of sleep and a huge overdose of nightmares, they were also etched in very unattractive black circles. At that exact moment, she looked both miserable, and exhausted. Queens weren't supposed to be miserable and exhausted. That had to change.

It didn't occur to her until five minutes later to use makeup to cover up her imperfections. Elsa didn't normally wear makeup… in fact, she never had. She had always thought that it was a pointless habit to get into. It took too long to apply, and once you started, everyone expected you to keep wearing it every day for the rest of your life, or else you became 'ugly' or something. When she was really little, before she had gotten confined to a life indoors, Elsa had promised herself never to wear makeup when she grew older. She'd made Anna promise, too. She'd told her that, as princesses, it was their duty to show people that girls could be pretty without it.

If only she had known back then what she knew now. Then Elsa would have never made such a stupid promise.

Reaching into her drawer, the girl pulled out a box of powders that her mother had kept insisting that she apply. Elsa wasn't sure exactly what they were made of, maybe some sort of crushed minerals or shells, but at that moment she really didn't care. She just pulled out the whitest powder she could find, the one she knew would blend in the best with her skin, and pressed it to the shadows under her eyes, letting it hide her exhaustion. Cover her pain. She couldn't do much about the puffiness, but to distract from it she wore a bit of blue eye-shadow on her eyelids. When she was finished, she looked it all over, checking for mistakes. For a moment, she was completely ashamed of herself. The person she saw was not the person she was inside. She wanted to scream, but she pushed the feelings down.

This was the new her, and she would just have to learn to live with it.

When she was done, she looked herself over in the mirror. She did, indeed, look about a thousand times better than before. She also felt a thousand times worse. The only thing left that was even the slightest bit unsettling, she realized, was the bloodiness of her hands. Her skin was still cracked and patchy, damaged from her fit of hysterics in the dungeon. For a second, Elsa stared at it. And then, she simply fixed it.

It was almost disturbing how quickly she repaired the wounds. One minute they were raw and bleeding. The next, thin lines of icy blue began to weave themselves throughout her hands, almost like invisible stitches, closing up her cuts and rejuvenating her damaged skin. The ice almost seemed to dissolve on the spot, and in its place it left a layer of perfectly new skin. It was, admittedly, paler than usual, and it would probably scar, but at that moment it was better than nothing. Within a minute, everything was as good as new. Elsa smiled to herself. She hadn't known she could do anything like that… but that would be the last time she would ever use her powers. Now, she was sure of it.

Picking up the gloves that lay uselessly on her bedside table, Elsa pulled them over her fingers. For the past year or so, she had worn them rarely, if at all, and it felt strange for her hands to be confined after so long. But, deep down, she'd always known she'd end up having to put them back on again. That was just the way her life worked. She was either caged up, or about to be. There was no freedom for a girl like her.

Now, the mere image of a soon-to-be-queen, Elsa hesitantly opened the door to her room and strode out, staring blankly at her feet. She would head over to her father's studies, now. Tell him that he was right, and she was wrong, and apologize for causing such a scene before. He would forgive her, of course, hand her a few of his own measly apologies, and then he would love her again, and she would love him too, and all would be right with the world. Everything would be back to the way things were supposed to be. Nobody would die because of her ever again. She was positive.

Walking slowly through the hallways, her heels clicking against the wooden ground, Elsa was willing and ready to accept whatever fate held in store for her. And she would do it just like the good girl she was.

She would do it the way her father wanted, because like she'd always thought as a little girl, her father was always right. Always.

* * *

><p><strong>Well... what did you think? This chapter wasn't exactly as eventful as the others, and I guess that's partially because I spent so much time describing the things that Elsa was changing about her appearance. But, hear me out, I did that for a good reason. I just wanted to emphasize how much change was occurring right at that moment. In this chapter, Elsa's pretty much given up on her dreams of a free life, and decides to lose whoever she is inside to live by the society's, and her father's, expectation of her. That's why I did the whole thing with the makeup, to show how Elsa's pretty much covering herself up right now, and hiding who she is inside. You know, a lot of symbolism and stuff like that, I guess. Just thought I'd explain that to make it clear XD.<strong>

**Don't forgot to review (you know I live for them)! I hope you liked it! I'll update ASAP!**


	7. The Books

**Hi guys! It's update time again!**

**Okay, so this chapter really isn't as well-put together as my others, and that's partially because this is the first chapter where I didn't really have a concrete idea of what I wanted to do. I just had several things I wanted to include, and I sort of stitched them all together into one chapter. The transition isn't as smooth as I would've liked, but I hope you forgive me for that and enjoy anyway :).**

**Btw, I've noticed that I've started getting a little _too_ negative about Elsa's father. I mean, we all know how horrible he is, but my goal when I started this was to show both the positive and negative sides of him, and I've sort of just skipped over the positive. So, in this chapter, I'm going just a little more in depth about _why_ Elsa's father is such a jerkaholic. Because, in my mind, he really does love Elsa (or at least it started out that way) he just sucks at showing it. Don't worry, though. I don't make him an angel or anything, he still looks like a pretty big jerk at the end of this chapter, I just tried to put him into a little more perspective. In my mind, there's no such thing as a 'true' bad guy.**

**Oh, this chapter takes place around three years or so after the incident with the mirror(if you haven't noticed yet, I've been doing a lot of three year intervals), so Elsa is now 18.**

**Ok, enough rambling. You can read now!**

* * *

><p>The sound of the whoosh of the paper—breaking out into the air as her fingers turned the gritty pages of the book—had never failed to calm now-eighteen-year-old Elsa's wild nerves. It didn't even matter what book it was, really. Nor what page, or even what genre. All that mattered was that she was reading, her mind lost in a swirl of carefully placed, carefully calculated words, kept busy enough so that it did not have time to dwell on the more 'unpleasant' matters of her life.<p>

As she sat politely in a chair, her posture firm and flawless, the novel she currently read was entitled "The History and Analysis of Computational Mathematics." It covered all sorts of mathematical theories, reviewing how to deal with numbers that were far too large and equations that were far too complex for human comprehension. Though vastly educational, it was, by far, the most boring thing the girl had ever laid eyes on.

She'd finished it a total of sixteen times.

Though she knew this piece of literature practically by heart now, Elsa was still quite determined to get to the end, and she held on to it as if it were her only lifeline. This book was, admittedly, a special one to her. It was so incredibly boring, so mind-numbingly bland, that she found herself pulling it out during only the darkest of times. When she managed to get herself sucked into its words, almost nothing could pull her out again, and it was as if a giant wall was built around her heart and mind, keeping out any personal thoughts and feelings. In Elsa's opinion, she could never have enough walls. It was wonderful. This was her favorite book.

It was a few years back, Elsa remembered, when this whole 'reading craze' of hers had started, and though it may have been considered obsessive by some, she didn't regret it for a second. Reading all the time may have been boring and time-consuming, but really, that was the whole point.

Looking up from her pages for a split second—having just finished the chapter labeled 'How Not to Panic When Faced with an Unsolvable Equation'—Elsa caught a glimpse of an excessively tall pile of novels resting neatly on the floor near the doorway. There were about ten or so stacked on top of each other, a result of three days worth of reading, and though she knew many others would look upon it with admiration, to her it was quite pitiful. Usually she could finish more than double that amount in that short span of time. What was with her these days?

Well, really, the lacking wasn't all her fault. She'd been having this very uneasy feeling lately, a sort of sinking dread in the very pit of her stomach, and she kept finding herself distracted or staring off into space when she knew she ought to be learning. It was strange. Usually, the worse she felt, the more she read. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before.

Shaking her head to alleviate her thoughts, Elsa pushed her eyes back to the page, intent on getting back in focus. Somehow, however, a mere minute later she found them drawn right back to that pile of books. It was almost as if they were magnetic or something. Very reluctantly, hoping to at least read _something_, Elsa found herself going over the titles of all the novels she could see, most of their names made quite visible through the large, blocky letters decorating their spines.

'Ancient Chinese Philosophies,' 'Why the Earth is Round,' 'Mastering Economics: Volume 32,' 'Abstract Geometric Proofs,' 'The Proper Way to Rule an Empire,' and the 'Latin to Spanish' dictionary were just a few of the ones she could see, the rest having been facing in the opposite direction. As she counted her progress for what could have been the hundredth time, Elsa smiled bitterly to herself, feeling a burning pit of shame beginning to singe the inner lining of her stomach. Look at how little she had accomplished these past few days! She needed to get a move on! Father would be so disappointed...

Quickly, Elsa shoved her nose right back into her book, attempting to absorb a very complicated, very detailed graph. She needed to get focused. She most certainly knew what would happen if she ever allowed herself to _think_.

Though the girl must have read hundreds of books since her fifteenth birthday, not one of them had been fictional. Of course she had tried those types, but they did not accomplish what she had been looking for, and her avoidance of them had begun quickly after she had realized this. When she read and processed the stories they held—those beautiful, emotional, heart-capturing stories—they filled her with all sorts of thoughts and feelings, feelings that reminded her of all the emotions she'd felt before, and those were exactly the sorts of things that she read specifically to avoid. As she had discovered years ago, when she read—the more boring the book, the better—her pain was put at a temporary standstill. With her mind kept so busy, she was unable to dwell on memories of the past, all her attention focused on reading those tiny, complicated words spewed like vomit across those yellowing pages. So, she read as much and as often as she could, devouring books as if they were only food and life-source. Reading was her distraction, and boy, did she need a distraction at this time of her life.

She remembered quite clearly the moment it had all started. The moment she had finally discovered something that could actually save her from the endless pit of hopelessness and despair that her mind was slowly and undeniably becoming. Or, at least, bide her some time.

It was three days after her initial, self-given makeover, and at that time in the afternoon, Elsa had sat on her bed staring lifelessly at the wall, her expression blank and seemingly indifferent with life. Only after she had vowed to stop using them had she begun to truly understood just how little she could do without her powers, and obviously, it was at that time in her life that she had had to deal with the blunt of that realization.

Of course she knew she had many skills—she was a graceful dancer, a gifted singer, and according to her tutor, could play the piano like a goddess—but those were all things that she was required to learn as a princess. She held little interest for using her talents for the pure joy of it. In fact, it seemed she held little interest for anything these days. But still, she had to do something. Her room was so small and confined and empty… how on Earth had she passed the time before she met Benson?

Annoyance flushing through her, Elsa glanced out of her window on the other side of the room. The sun was high in the sky, marking noon, and the girl recalled bitterly that her tutor had already spent her required time in the morning, so she wouldn't have anything else to do for the rest of the day. Considering Elsa's general intelligence and the vast amount of queen-like skills she possessed to begin with, her father had already commanded that she did not need more than three hours or so of education a day. That way, most of the tutor's time could be spent dealing with a rather unruly and distractible Anna. At the age of nearly twelve, the girl was reaching a rather rebellious stage of her life—Elsa could most definitely relate to that—and had simply gone all out to cause wreak and havoc in the castle. Though Elsa had nodded politely to her father when he had told her this, agreeing that it was smart to send the tutor to put Anna back in line, the girl couldn't help but, deep down, feel a pool of happiness welling up inside her heart at the news. Anna was just being a normal pre-teen girl… and somehow, that had made her feel more joy than she could imagine.

Still, though, less tutoring time did have its drawbacks, and a nearly-fifteen-year-old-Elsa had found herself getting lonelier and lonelier every second. She couldn't very well rely on her newest personal servant for company, as the maid who replaced Benson was a woman named Gretchen, and she was the very person who had betrayed him to the king in the first place, leading to his inevitable death. In fact, Elsa was so determined _not_ to spend time with Gretchen that she had went out of her way to make sure that she didn't need her. At night, she had trained herself to stay completely still in sleep—even during nightmares—so that her gloves didn't slip from her fingers. She had to admit that it was an uncomfortable experience, but at least her room never froze over anymore.

Elsa had also given orders that the woman, instead of knocking and bringing them to her directly, leave trays of food right outside her doorway, to be retrieved when the coast was clear. This way, Elsa never saw her face, and she never saw Elsa's. It was a fair solution, but now, for eighteen hours a day, the girl lived in complete isolation. It wasn't the ideal situation, but she couldn't say that it was something she wouldn't get used to over time. It was a lonely existence, but she found that at least when she was alone, she couldn't be hurt. And, more importantly, she couldn't hurt anybody else.

She wasn't quite sure when or why it had happened, but suddenly, as the young girl had sat there drowning in her silence, a memory had come back to her.

When Elsa had been twelve—after the incident with the tortured woman, but before she'd ever met Benson—she had come across a series of childishly-wonderful fantasy novels, and had spent a great deal of her free-time reading them. She couldn't quite recall what they had been about, nor did she remember them as being especially good quality, but they had served as a good time-waster back then… Elsa couldn't see why they wouldn't do the same now. Of course, the girl had not yet been aware of her new inability to read fiction stories, but at that moment, it really didn't matter. In a mere ten minutes, she had already begun trudging downstairs to the castle library, intent on finding that old favorite series of hers to reread. She had no idea, at the time, that she was about to find much, much more.

When she had first stepped into that library, Elsa had had to stifle a gasp. The room was simply _huge_, even bigger than the enormous ballroom of theirs, and thousands upon thousands of books lined the dusty, wooden shelves. Though the phrase was cheesy and vastly overused, Elsa couldn't help but think of it as an entire _world_ for her to explore. Looking around, eyes wide and alert, she had wondered silently to herself. _Had the library always been this big?_ Somehow, she couldn't recall. All she could feel, all she was even aware of, was the brimming excitement that had suddenly and inexplicable begun to take ahold of her pounding heart. This, she had to admit, was going to be fun.

Half an hour later, Elsa had finally left the library, struggling to carry a stack of books taller than her own head. She had not managed to find that old book-series of hers—there were far too many for her to sort through, it would have been a miracle had she actually attained them—but she couldn't say that she was disappointed. The books she had picked out were all the heaviest, most-complicated one's she could find. If she couldn't have a tutor, she decided, she would just have to teach herself.

Stumbling forward, most of her vision obscured by the tower in front of her face, Elsa hadn't even noticed as the little redheaded child (or strawberry blond, she was never quite sure what color that girl's hair was) skipped towards her, a devious and excited grin stretched across her face.

"Woah, Elsa!" she heard a voice say, unmistakably her sister. "That's a whole lot of books you've got there! And they're all so big... practically bricks! Need any help?"

Sudden panic rushing through her at the mere thought, Elsa had shaken her head. Upon realizing that Anna could not see her, however, she was forced to speak up.

"No, no. I'm fine, Anna, thank you. I got it."

She had hoped that the girl would leave it at that, but of course, that only showed how little she knew about her younger sister.

"No you're not," Anna had said simply, her voice brimming with excitement as her braids swung freely from side to side, "Look at you, you're holding like ten books! You can't bring those all up the stairs by yourself! Let me help!"

"No, Anna, really. I'm fine. Just—"

"Let me help!" Anna said again, louder and more insistent this time, "Let me help! C'mon, just let me help! You know I can!"

"Anna," Elsa had repeated, annoyance creeping into her voice, "Please, I don't—"

Her denial was futile, her words too late. Within a millisecond, Anna had already swept forward and grabbed the top five books on the pile, grunting at the weight.

"Oof… geez. These really are like bricks."

Elsa had narrowed her eyes in disapproval, and for a moment she felt like snatching them back, but then her anger dissipated, and she decided to just let it slide this time. There wasn't much harm one walk to her room could cause, and besides, the books really _were_ heavy. Maybe she actually did need the help.

In silence, the two girls began walking, and together they swerved and turned through the many twisting passageways of the castle. Or, at least, Elsa _wished _it had been in silence. Anna, however, didn't really seemed to want that.

The bounding, joy-filled, twelve-year-old girl had started talking as soon as they had begun their little walk, and at the speed at which her lips flapped, it was as if she thought she'd never get the chance again. Well, Elsa figured, maybe she had a point. Elsa was out of her room like this practically once in a lifetime, and if Anna wanted to take advantage of this awkward sister-bonding situation, she guessed she didn't really have a right to stop her.

"Mom ordered the tutor to give me dancing lessons, did you know that?" Anna had babbled happily, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement, "I had my first lesson an hour ago. I fell over trying to do a pirouette and landed on the tutor's leg… I think I broke it! Mom says no more dancing lessons for me."

The girl giggled as if it were the most hilarious thing in the world, and somehow, Elsa could barely hold back the smile threatening to spill out across her features. It was, admittedly, a cute story. For a split second—as she stared down lovingly at her little sister—all Elsa had wanted to do was laugh and laugh and laugh like a crazy person. Laugh until her knees buckled beneath her and her lungs caved in her chest and she collapsed onto the ground, rolling around and around as her body screamed for air. Not that Anna's story was _that_ funny, but still. Laughing was fun. She'd always wanted to do it with Anna, even just for a little bit... but no, she couldn't, that was ridiculous. She suddenly remembered her new, improved personality, and knew that laughing hysterically was not something that _Queen_ Elsa would ever even consider. Regaining her composure, Elsa responded as formally as she could muster.

"I see."

Noticing her lack of interest, Anna's smile slowly faltered. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and Elsa felt a twinge of guilt tugging at her heartstrings. She pushed it back, though. It was all for the better, she knew it was.

"I bet you're a great dancer, Elsa," the girl began slowly, looking at her with wide, serious eyes, "You're so elegant and graceful and everything, that's what Mom says. Sometimes I like to press my ear against the door when you play the piano. You're really good at it, you know that? I can't play for my life."

Elsa looked guiltily down at her shoes. Her words had been simple, but Elsa still couldn't believe them. Was this _really_ how Anna saw her? This perfect, flawless, _statue_ of an older sister? Couldn't she see just how broken Elsa was? Just how weak and fearful and torn apart? No… of course not. Elsa had spent half her life making sure nobody could. Now, suddenly, she wished she were as bad at hiding her feelings as Anna had always been.

"I'm sure you just need a little practice," Elsa mumbled, refusing to meet the girl's eyes. Her words were empty, of course. She'd heard Anna trying to play the flute before and… well… let's just say it wasn't the _prettiest _song she'd ever heard.

"Besides," she added quickly, another thought entering her mind, "You're good at other things." That, at least, was true. Anna was a beautiful singer, and according to the castle staff, quite a fast runner. Plus, if Elsa remembered correctly, the girl had been quite fearless when she was younger. A real-life daredevil. Elsa would've given anything to be fearless, she really would've.

At this, Anna gave her a funny half-smile. "Really? You think?"

Elsa nodded slowly, and Anna beamed.

For the rest of the walk, Elsa remained silent, listening as Anna went on and on about how tight Mom and Dad were becoming about 'manners' and 'grace' and a bunch of other stupid things like that. Within five minutes, the speech not even close to approaching a finish, the two had reached the staircase leading up to Elsa's room. Carefully, they ascended it, Anna's mouth still bumbling on.

"Oh, and did I tell you that I've been asking Mom and Dad for a cat for Christmas? They weren't so sure at first, but I've been leaving them semi-threatening notes in secret places around the house, and I think they're finally starting to come around to— AHHHHH!"

Suddenly, near the very top of the immense staircase, Anna's foot caught on the hem on her dress and she wasted no time stumbling and falling forward, her chin catching the edge of a stair as the books she was holding thudding down below. As they slipped from her fingers, they practically danced down the staircase, creating loud, booming sounds whenever they dared bang to the ground... so loud that Elsa would have been surprised had the whole kingdom not heard the trouble. As they thundered down, the girls stared at the flying literature in shock, not daring to move a muscle. Finally, when they all lay on the floor, motionless and finished with their escape, Elsa and Anna turned to each other, their eyes wide and their mouths agape. Had they not been so stunned, it would have been a funny sight.

"Oh gosh... wow. Uh, um, sorry Elsa! I'm so sorry! I'll go pick those up, I promise!"

Anna's face was flushed pink again, this time with embarrassment, and Elsa could tell with the quivering of her lips that she was extremely ashamed. She'd probably been imagining this 'sisterly bonding time' for as long as Elsa had been hiding in her room, and now she thought she had ruined it. Almost immediately, Anna averted her eyes, biting her lip to keep herself from crying. It was such a pitiful, horrible sight. A girl as great at her should never be ashamed. Suddenly, Elsa felt something inside of her break in two. It was probably her composure, for what she said next was something she knew her father would never approve of.

"I don't know why they make our dresses so long if they don't want us to trip on them," spoke Elsa, casually shrugging her shoulders, "I can't tell you how many times I've nearly died trying to walk down these stairs."

Anna's response had been instantaneous. As she pulled herself up from the step, her expression went from shame, to shock, to complete excitement.

"Really?!" the girl nearly shouted, her eyes wide.

Elsa nodded slowly. "When I was really little, Mom and Dad threw a party in the ballroom. When I was dancing, I tripped on my dress and knocked over a giant bowl of pudding on the desert table. It splattered over everything. Everyone was furious at me."

Anna gawked at her, her eyes as bright as stars. "No way!"

"Yep," said Elsa, feeling an uncharacteristic surge of excitement and humor swelling through her heart, "You were there, too, I think. You were one, and you crawled all over the place licking the floor to try and clean up the pudding. Dad eventually made me pick you up and leave because we were embarrassing him."

At this, Anna literally burst out laughing. With her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, the beautiful sound of her voice rang out into the air like a melody, and Elsa remembered smiling to herself, wondering—not for the first time—how someone as warm as Anna could be related to someone as cold as herself.

Finally, after Anna had calmed down enough not to go tumbling down with the rest of the things she had dropped, she went to retrieve the library books from where they sat lifelessly on the floor. Elsa stood near the top of the steps, watching her stumbling as she struggled to collect the stories, numerous stray hairs flying out of her double braids as she ran. Anna was just so… so... imperfect. So wonderfully, beautifully imperfect. She really was worth everything Elsa had done for her. She really was.

Soon, far too soon, the two girls reached Elsa's bedroom. Opening the door with one quick flick of the wrist, Elsa stepped inside to set her books on her desk and then came back out again to grab the one's that Anna held. When she did, however, she noticed that something had changed. The girl, rather than being in her usual cheery mood, seemed to be on edge. Not in an upset sort of way, just nervously. She was tottering on her heels, biting her lip, looking very anxious and excited both at the same time. Just when Elsa thanked her and was about to close the door, Anna blurted out what she must have wanted so badly to say.

"Hey… um… Elsa? It snowed last night, did you know that? I was planning on going out later, anyway, and I was just wondering… do you want to build a snowman?"

Elsa's eyes widened. For a second, the prospect swam innocent and beautiful through her mind. Then reality hit, and she looked down sadly at her shoes.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I can't. I'm busy."

Anna didn't look disheveled. She had obviously expected this, but she wasn't giving up that easily. "Why not?" she asked innocently, tying her hands up in a knot and trying to look cute, "Just for a little while. Please?"

Elsa shook her head. "I'm busy…"

"Busy doing what? Reading?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as she dropped the act of cuteness that must have worked for her all the time, "Come on, those books will still be here when we get back. Let's go out and play! I'm so boooorrreeedddd!"

Elsa inwardly groaned to herself, a sprout of annoyance beginning to fill up her veins. Didn't Anna understand by now? She must've said no about a thousand times already, so why hadn't the girl gotten the point yet? Whatever Anna wanted, no matter what it was, Elsa just _couldn't_ do it. She wished so desperately that she could, she really did, but she couldn't, and the girl's constant begging was only making the pain she felt a thousand times worse. Why was she so obnoxiously persistent?

"Anna, I'm sorry, but—"

"Come on! Let's build a snowman!"

"I really can't, I'm—"

"Yes you can!"

"No, Anna, I can't-"

"But, it'll be fun! It snowed so much last night, and I haven't seen you in forever, and we could maybe even have a snowball fight, if you wanted. It's so lonely in this stupid castle! We could come back in for some hot chocolate afterwards and I could teach you how to play this game I invented and we could even make a pillow fort, and then—"

"I said NO, Anna!"

Anna froze. Elsa's words had been louder and stronger than she had intended, had come out so harsh and hateful and monstrous, that in an instant she was sure that all she had managed to do was hurt the only person left on the Earth who still loved her. Who she, herself, still loved. For the first time in forever, Anna seemed not to have anything to say.

"Sorry," mumbled Elsa quietly, and she quickly stepped backwards inside her room, slamming the door behind her.

At that, Elsa had thought it was over. Breathing deeply, she had allowed herself to slide down her door, the shame threatening to spill down her pale cheeks. She hadn't realized that at that exact moment, Anna's hurt had been replaced with anger. She hadn't realized it until the girl had shouted back. She'd never heard Anna shout before, never even heard her being angry, and the result? The result was heartbreaking.

"Why do you _hate _me?!" she had yelled, her voice muffled from the wooden barrier between them, "What did I ever do _wrong?!"_

Elsa leaned against the door in silence as she heard the sound of feet stamping against a hard ground, evidence that Anna was now stomping away, releasing her breaths in little puffs of fury. Elsa stayed completely still for long, long after she had left. She could barely think, barely breathe, barely do anything. Oh, Anna…

After everything Elsa had done for her, after how much love she felt for the girl, Anna still thought that she hated her. And how could Elsa blame her? She was shutting her sister out, refusing even the smallest of her invitations. If it had been in reverse, she surely would've thought the same.

Suddenly, everything Elsa had ever done just seemed so pointless. So meaningless and stupid and empty. Of all the ways she had tried, of all the sacrifices she had made, nobody on Earth would ever know about any of them. Sure, she could think to herself that she was doing something for the greater good—for Anna's good—but in the end, when the years had past and she herself ended up meeting a welcoming death, it would all be for nothing. Nobody would ever know any of what she went through. Nobody would ever know how hard she tried to be good. In the end, if she ever broke, her entire kingdom would all think of her as a monster. It wouldn't matter how many horrible things she had had to deal with in her past, of how she had been pushed to the breaking point, of how it really wasn't her fault at all. Nobody would know, and nobody would care. All that would matter would be the things that people would see. She knew that if she ever let her powers go, they would all think... _would all know... _just how much of a monster she really was. There was no way around it.

So she'd just have to make sure they never found out.

Bubbling from within her, Elsa could still feel the pain and the emotion rising up inside her chest. Anna thought she hated her… and the girl would never know otherwise. She'd spend the rest of her life thinking, wondering, where she had went wrong. Never realizing that her sister loved her more than anything in the entire world. Never realizing that she was the most wonderful, innocent being ever created.

The thoughts were overwhelming Elsa, now. Drowning her in feelings she was too weak to handle. She felt like crying, again. Felt like falling to the floor and bawling her eyes out and never getting back up. She could change her appearance, she realized, but she couldn't change who she was inside. She couldn't stop the pain.

It was then, the storm of hurt and loneliness beginning to well up inside of her for what seemed like the thousandth time, that her eyes had crossed over to the pile of books on the desk, and without even processing what she was doing, she had walked over and picked one of them up, feeling the smooth skin of it rub nicely against her hand. Within a year after this incident, despite the surging importance of this certain book in her life, the girl didn't even remember which one it was. All she knew was that it was very, very boring. Very large and heavy and time-consuming. And the girl had loved it. Boy, had she loved it.

The way all her thoughts had seem to drift off at the introduction of the novel's blocky words was something she would never forget. The way all her feelings had melted away, as if ice cubes in the middle of summer, and the storm inside her was dulled to a quiet, was something she would savor for the rest of her life. Reading these things—these boring, nonfiction, bricks—helped numb her from the pain. And she needed a good numbing, she really did.

Now, around two years later, Elsa still found comfort in that same pass-time. Not only did it help her forget her feelings, but she'd found that she'd learned quite a lot from it. She now spoke at least ten languages fluently—English, Latin, Norwegian, Old Norse, Danish, French, Swedish, German, Greek, Polish, and was in the process of learning Spanish—was highly educated in several forms of mathematics and science, had a well-organized list of all her favorite historical quotes and philosophies, was a gifted writer and public speaker, and had at least a basic knowledge of every major moment in history before her. She found there was a lot one could accomplish when learning all day, every day. Her parents had grown so proud of her, she knew they had, and all the servants in the castle seemed severely impressed. The only one who appeared to be less-than-happy about Elsa's growing skills was Anna herself, who felt not only insignificant due to her sister's rising perfection, but seemed to resent the way she spent all her time learning rather than using it for sisterly bonding. Elsa felt a little guilty about it all, but what could she do? This was what she was meant for.

Slowly, shaking her head to once again bring herself out of her thoughts, eighteen-year-old Elsa turned her attention back to the book in her hands. After nearly fifteen minutes of daydreaming, she'd made absolutely no progress. If she wanted to finish it by noon, she'd really have to buckle down. Carefully—stretching out her fingers in her pristine, blue gloves—Elsa repositioned herself in her chair. She took a few deep breathes, emptied her mind of all thought, and tried again.

This time, she was able to concentrate for far longer than before, and for a good long time her uneasy feelings were dulled down to only a slight ache in her heart. Only when she heard a knock on her door, short and stiff and formal, did she dare to look up from those crispy pages, having finally gotten to that infamous last chapter.

"Who is it?" the girl called, tilting her head slightly to the side in curiosity. She couldn't think of who might be visiting her at this time of day. Anna had long since given up on trying to get the two of them to spend time together, and Elsa knew that even the friendliest servants had grown wary of her reclusion. She wasn't what one would call the 'popular' type.

The voice that came from the other side of the wood both shocked and terrified her. But, then again, she also felt a strange surge of excitement.

"It's your father. May I come in?"

Immediately, Elsa straightened her back on her chair, checking to make sure her legs were properly crossed and her dress was neat and unwrinkled. She bit her tongue to keep herself from breathing too quickly. That would give away her nervousness for sure.

"Enter!" she called firmly, once she was positive that everything was perfect. Much to her surprise, it took only a split second for her father to do as he was told, and the sheer emotional vibe that he carried with him felt strange to her. As he approached, she could immediately tell that there was something on his mind. She just didn't know what it was yet.

"Lovely day, isn't it, Elsa?"

Understanding that this was what he expected her to do, the girl looked momently out of her window to see the hot, summer sun beating down like a heart in the sky. It was being held up by an army of fluffy, white clouds, and far off in the distance the fjord shone beautifully under its golden glare. Slowly, Elsa nodded. If he wanted to ask her such a common, boring question, she would give him a common, boring answer.

"Yes," she said, as formally as she could muster, "Indeed."

She turned back to find that he had seated himself without invitation, positioning his chair right across from her own. He seemed… different, today. Not totally, out-of-the-blue different, but a different that she had seen before. She wasn't sure how this made sense, but in her mind, it did.

She waited for her father to speak, his warm eyes flicking from her face, to the floor, to her face again, and his left foot tapping impatiently against the ground. To her own astonishment, he seemed a little jittery today, a mix of nervousness and excitement taking turns playing across his eyes, even as his face was kept still and emotionless. It seemed as if she hadn't seem him behaving so 'human-like' since she was a little girl. Ever since then—at least with her—he had always just seemed so unnaturally perfect. So sure and strong and kinglike. To see him behaving this way… it was both extremely unnerving and stunningly precious. She couldn't decide which feeling overpowered the other.

Finally, when it came to her attention that he wasn't planning to break the growing silence, Elsa found that she had to be the one to speak first.

"Is there… was there… something you wanted to say to me, Father?"

It was most definitely curious the way that he seemed to be looking her up and down, his face astonished. For a second, she was almost positive that she saw a smile curve his lips. But, just as fast, it disappeared, and she was sure she had only imagined it.

"Yes, Elsa. There are a lot of things I want to say, I just don't know where to start."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise. She hadn't had an actual conversation with her father in years. Their 'talks' mostly consisted of a few necessary words, some well-kept distance, and a cold, unwelcoming formality. The way he spoke now was so unlike that. It was endearing.

As the girl had simply stared at him, unable to come up with a suitable reply, it seemed her father had made up his mind about something he had been struggling against, for, seemingly out of nowhere, he had leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder, the gentle pressure undeniable against her skin-tight cloth. She had flinched back, of course, not used to such direct touching, but his hold was tight and firm, and he did not let go even as she veered away. After a moment, Elsa managed to relax enough to keep herself still, though still feeling a twinge of anxiety in her chest.

"Elsa," he began, his voice so soft and heartfelt that she was stunned to silence, "I-I don't think I ever truly apologized to you for the things I did so long ago… I'd go into more detail, but I think you know the things I'm talking about."

Elsa's eyes widened in shock. An apology? Was this really happening?

"I know it's strange to bring them up so many years later, but I've been feeling, well... guilty for a while now, and I just want to let you know that I truly am sorry for all the pain I've put you through. I love you. You know that, don't you? I love you with every inch of my being. Everything I've ever done was intended to be for your benefit, though I have to admit, I am not the perfect father. I'm sure you've seen plenty of evidence to suggest that already, but... I just wanted to let you know that I'm aware of my mistakes. I love you, I really do."

Elsa released a silent gasp at the unexpected words. The gasp was childish and unladylike, but she couldn't help it. His speech was obviously something he had rehearsed over and over again to get just right, she wasn't so stupid as to believe he had come up with it on the spot, but it did not feel forced at all. In fact, the way he said it, it felt absolutely, stunningly real. Suddenly, Elsa began to feel this sort of stirring in her heart—it was the only way she could describe the feeling—and tears pricked her eyes. For the first time in her life, however, the tears weren't from sadness or anger. They were from something else. She couldn't quite pinpoint it just yet.

"So…" she began, trying and failing to keep her voice from shaking, "Does that mean… that you regret it? You regret what you did to that woman, you regret what you did to Benson, you regret what you did to _me_?" She was sure that that was what he was saying, but she just wanted to clarify. Or maybe she just wanted to hear him say it again.

To her utter heartbreak, however, Father slowly shook his head.

"Well, I didn't say that…"

Suddenly, anger replaced the sinking feeling in her chest, and trying hard to stifle the bitterness in her voice, she replied, "Then you're not sorry... you're not sorry for anything."

Her father shook his head firmly. "There's a difference," he said slowly, his voice clear and fatherly, "I do not regret what I did to that woman. She was a witch and a criminal, and deserved what was coming to her. I am, however, sorry I ever let you see her be killed. I do not regret ordering Benson's execution. He was trying to kidnap you and it was my duty as both your father and your king to stop him. I am, however, sorry that I ever let him get that close to you to begin with. I do not regret stifling your powers, Elsa, and keeping you away from the outside world, but I am truly, truly sorry that I have caused you to fear yourself so strongly. I never meant that. I promise you, I never did."

For a moment, Elsa swore she could see a tear pricking at one of her father's eyes, but in a moment he had sucked it right back up. Now she knew where she got it from.

"F-father," she stuttered, her eyes wide and unsure. This was all so much to take in. On one hand, his lack of regret still stung like a knife in her heart. On the other, his obvious sorrow gave her the warmest feeling she had felt all year. Why the sudden change of heart? She didn't understand.

"Elsa, please," her father responded, ignoring her silence and tightening his grip on her shoulder, "I just need to know… do you forgive me?"

That question held more weight in her soul than he could have ever imagined, and for a split second, she was almost positive she was chocking on it. How did he expect her to just answer that right off the bat? How on Earth did even _she _know what she was thinking? With the feelings from her childhood still lurking silently in the back of her mind, and all the new emotions now bouncing around freshly in her brain, her thoughts were now as fogged and blurry as ever. Did she forgive him? How could she… after all he'd done to her! But then again, how could she not? He was her father. And the way he looked at her now, she was almost positive that he meant ever word he said. He loved her from the bottom of his heart. And she… well, she loved him too. Ever after everything he'd done to her, she still loved him. She always had, and always would. Just as she'd sobbed into his shirt the horrific day that he had tortured that woman, clinging onto him from the pain that he himself had caused, she realized now that no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't hate him. Not him, not him.

"Yes, Father. Of course I forgive you. Fully and completely."

As he had smiled at her, his eyes washed clean with relief, she had felt a tinge of guilt in the very pit of her stomach. She didn't like lying to her father. She really didn't. But she knew that telling him the truth would hurt him, and she cared for him far too much to let him feel that pain.

She loved him, but she did not forgive him. She wasn't sure how those feelings were possible together, but they were. They really were.

"I'm so proud of you, Elsa," the man whispered, his eyes so kind and warm, "At first, after your servant's execution, I was worried that I had somehow damaged you beyond repair, but you've really come out remarkably. You're graceful and smart and hardworking… you'll be an excellent queen one day, I'm sure of it."

Though his words were obviously intended as a compliment, Elsa suddenly felt a wave of sadness wash over her heart. She realized now, her hope sinking, that her father was proclaiming his love not to the angry, love-craving, fourteen-year-old version of herself that needed it the most, but to the pleasant, perfect, eighteen-year-old Elsa. The Elsa that wasn't really her at all. Did he really love her? Or did he just love the mask she wore to cover herself? Did he even have a clue of who she really was _inside_? The girl didn't know, and at the moment, she didn't much feel like trying to figure it out. Taking a few deep breaths, she silently told herself that he loved her from the bottom of his soul, not caring if it were all a lie. She just needed to hear it. She just needed _him_.

After a good few minutes of comfortable silence—through which Elsa took the time to pull herself together—her father finally spoke again. This time, when he did, his voice held a tinge of excitement, and Elsa listened intently.

"Now that that's taken care of... I have some wonderful news to tell you!" he had exclaimed, a smile brimming his face, "You won't believe it. After so long, it almost seems like a cruel joke… even to me!"

"What?" she asked him, her eyes wide, "What is it?" Obviously, this was why he had even come in the first place. If it prompted him to speak the words he had just told her, it must have been something unbelievable. Something extraordinary.

If possible, his smile widened even more.

"Elsa, my dear... your mother and I have just received a letter from a faraway empire on the east side," he began, now reaching down to take her gloved hands in his own, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly on the back of her palm, "They claim—though proof has yet to be given—that they may have found the cure for your mysterious curse!"

Elsa raised her eyebrows, her lips slightly parted. The only thing she could think to say, her voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible, was "How?"

"Many years ago," her father continued, getting more excited by the second, "The very day that you were conceived, in fact, and your particular 'disability' discovered, your mother and I sent this empire a note asking for their help. They are world-famous for their knowledge in magical ailments, and though the chances were slim—as they are known to be a very isolated and often violent people—we knew we had to at least try to ask for some assistance. When they didn't respond, we lost hope rather quickly… but now? Now we finally have a chance, Elsa! Don't you see!"

The girl could barely breathe. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about this yet. Her powers had plagued her her entire life, brought nothing but pain and misfortune to wherever she dared to tread, but to get rid of them? The idea was simply… disconcerting. They had been part of her, had _been_ her, for so long. It would be like waking up to find that someone had mysteriously chopped off her arm while she slept. She liked her arm.

"That's… very interesting," she heard herself saying, still running the possibility over and over again through her brain, "What's your plan? Are the king and queen visiting? Should we prepare for their arrival?"

Slowly, Father shook his head, but his look of glee did not falter.

"It was agreed that your mother and I would sail off to this kingdom as soon as possible… which should be around next week, maybe sooner if we're lucky. They invited us to take a look at what they have discovered, so we can decide if we're willing to try it on you. We'll be gone for two weeks at the most."

At this, Elsa's eyes widened, and then narrowed considerably. Something about that proposal simply didn't sound right…

"Why not take me with you?" she asked, trying to inject her own logic into the situation, "It'll be far more efficient that way. They can look me over, examine my powers for themselves, and if we agree to whatever treatment they seem to have concocted, I can take it right then and there. Far simpler, don't you think?"

Suddenly, Father rubbed the back of his neck. He gave her a sheepish smile, and the air around them gained about a bucketful of tension and awkwardness. "Well, about that, Elsa dear…"

"What about it?" she interrupted, raising her eyebrow in suspicion.

"They… well, there's no nice way to put this... asked us not to bring you."

That was the final straw for Elsa. Everything clicked into place. It was too risky, she realized. The situation was all too uncertain. The feeling of uneasiness that had rested upon her mind only this morning now had a reason to it. Elsa occasionally found herself having small premonition, and she had no doubt that this was one of them.

"You're not going," she said, so strongly and firmly that for a moment her father stared at her in utter shook.

"Well, why not?" he asked after regaining his composure, "I don't understand why it matters so—"

"It's a trap, Father," she interrupted, struggling not to roll her eyes, "Isn't it obvious? They haven't been searching for a cure for eighteen years, that's insane… they've just now decided that saying so would be a good way to lure you there. If you go, they'll capture you and kill you not a moment after you step off the boat. Of course they didn't want you to bring me… they know of my powers, and they're aware of my ability to fend them off! But the two of you alone will never stand a chance. You must stay."

After a moment of awkward staring, Father threw his face in his hands and shook his head.

"You sound just like your mother," he murmured, annoyance creeping into his voice, "She was suspicious, too. But I managed to convince her otherwise…"

Slowly, Father raised his head, and the girl was shocked at the look of pity in his eyes.

"Elsa, honey, its not that far of a stretch to assume that they didn't want you to visit their kingdom for, well, other reasons. Let's be honest here... you do have quite a dangerous and unpredictable power. I doubt they'd want someone with your such ability in their empire. Its too much of a liability. They don't know if the concoction will work on you yet, and I'm sure they wouldn't want you within a thousand miles of their kingdom, or themselves, until they were absolutely positive that they could control you. I didn't want to tell you all this, Elsa, but you pushed me…"

What her father was suggesting, though grossly sugarcoated, was that they were terrified of her. She was too much of a monster to enter their godforsaken kingdom.

Like she needed him to say it so indirectly. She knew the truth even better than he did.

"Still," Elsa continued, her mind set, "The entire prospect is just so suspicious. It's not worth the risk. You can't go."

She could tell her father was getting angry at her now. He didn't like being argued with... no king did. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were spread into a scowl so thin that his mouth was practically one long line.

"Not _worth_ it?" he began, his voice exasperated, "Elsa, this is your _future_ we're talking about! If we do this we could get rid of your curse forever! I'm willing to risk everything for that!"

There it was. The main objective. It all went back to her powers. Always.

Her father had never liked them, she knew that fact like the back of her hand. Unlike her mother, he had never once shown any admiration towards them, not even when she was just a little girl and they had been used for nothing more than to make pretty little snowflakes float around through the air. When she had grown older and they had gotten out of control, he had wasted no time locking her away in a castle. She remembered how insistent he had always been about her learning to control them. He went on and on about how important it was, about how he knew she could do it, about how there must be a cure. Elsa realized now that though her father may have loved her, he absolutely hated her powers. Hated them from the very bottom of his heart. She didn't know why, and probably never would, but the very thought of it made her glare at his shoes in scorn.

The only reason he even reached out to her now was because he thought she'd soon by relieved of her powers. If that hadn't been the case, none of his words would have been said, she was sure of it. For a split second, she wanted to jump up from her seat and simply scream at him. She wanted to pound her fists against the ground and freeze the entire castle and let him feel her burning, icy rage. He loved her, she knew that, but not _nearly_ as much as he hated her powers. If he had loved her enough, he would've never put her through all that pain. If he had loved her enough, he would have never kept her so caged for her entire life. If he had loved her enough, everything could've been different...

But no. This was the way her life turned out. She was just going to have to accept it.

Suddenly, a sigh like a mini-hurricane filled Elsa's lungs, and she released it silently, feeling the way her own breath tickled her lips at its escape. She couldn't get mad at him. She wasn't that type of person… not anymore. As a future queen, she was supposed to be soft, and kind, and perfect—not angry and rebellious—and so she would do just as was expected of her. Just like always.

And besides, how could she dare yell at a man whose declaration of love for her was still ringing beautifully through her mind? Maybe he did hold her powers at a higher value than he did his own daughter, but it didn't matter anymore. He just admitted to loving her, and that was something she had wanted to hear for so, so long. She couldn't help it. Even the ice princess needed some warmth. And he was the wonderful being that had finally given it to her.

But that didn't change the fact that he was being foolish.

"Please," she said after an impossibly long stretch of silence, "I have a really bad feeling about your trip. I don't want anything to happen to you. Just don't go."

Her father shook his head slowly and stood up, walking swiftly towards the door. He grabbed its handle firmly and pulled it open in one foul swoop. With one foot already out, he turned his head and began to speak.

"I'm sorry if you're nervous, Elsa," he announced, looking straight into her cold, blue eyes, "But I'm the father in this household, and I say we're going to be fine. You're mother and I are leaving, and that's final."

He finished his exit and shut the door loudly behind him. Elsa could still feel the vibration of the slam for hours after he had left. Or, at least, she thought she could. Her mind was too blurred to make any sense of it.

Fine, her parents were leaving. She could live with that. She just wasn't sure if they could.

Her mind swimming like a series of ocean waves, emotions pulsing through her heart faster and more powerfully than her own blood, Elsa did the only thing that made any sense to her in this type of situation. Slowly, she turned sideways, picked up her book, and began to read...

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that was it. Not my best work, but I hope you liked it! I'll probably go back and edit it tomorrow, but I'm already a bit behind schedule, so I wanted to post it tonight.<strong>

**Obviously, (spoiler alert if you haven't seen the movie yet, but that would be pretty unlikely if you're reading this) Elsa's parents die in the next chapter. Yes, I know their boat goes down during a storm in the film, not from an attack, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten that. You'll see what I do, it's not too much of a stretch.**

**I was originally planning to make the 'death scene' part of this chapter, but this one is long enough, and I feel that since Elsa's father is such a huge part of the story, his death deserved a little more attention. It's almost like a resolution to the conflict (though, its not really. It leaves too many questions open for me to just leave it at that. Don't worry, you'll eventually see what I'll do to resolve my fanfic in a satisfactory way).**

**So... I'll see you next week, I guess! **


	8. The Ship

**Hey everybody! I'm back!**

**Ok, first off, let me apologize for missing my last update. My laptop just completely broke (it was really old, not a big deal) so I had to order a new one and wait until it arrived, which took at least a week. Luckly, I managed to make this chapter just in time for this weekend... so I hope you like it! Just a forewarning, though, my next few weeks or so are going to be very busy, so my update-timing may be a little off. Hopefully nothing too drastic, though.**

**This chapter takes place right after the last. Elsa's parents are off to travel to some unknown empire. I think we both know what's going to happen...**

* * *

><p>It was nearly noon by the time Elsa finally worked up enough courage to leave her tiny, secluded room on the second floor and venture off into the vast and uncharted territory of the hallway.<p>

Not even five minutes before she had heard the sound of rushing footsteps past her closed door, indicating an always-affectionate Anna on her way to say her goodbyes. Elsa had listened in half-interest as the girl had embraced their parents, heard the words of farewell between the small group, and wondered to herself if a single one of them really knew the dangers that they might soon face. She guessed not. Their farewell was far too cheery, with far too many "see you soon's" and "bring me back a souvenir's" to indicate that a single soul doubted their return.

Oh, but Elsa did. And the thought was killing her.

Today was the day, she knew. The day her parents finally stopped their endless rattling about their trip and just went, already. Went to visit a strange and mysterious empire, went to discover a cure for Elsa's dangerous powers, went to possibly throw themselves into death's dark and welcoming arms. She knew it was no good to think that way, knew that she was probably overreacting just as her father had told her she was, but she simply couldn't stop that feeling of dread that kept pushing outwards from the very pit of her stomach, squirming and writhing and trying to escape. It wasn't unbearable, but plenty strong, and as she went to close the bedroom door behind her, her stomach gave a huge lurch, feeling as if she had swallowed a hot ball of lead. Biting her lip, Elsa urged herself to hold back the wave of nausea... or worse, ice. Letting go of either of those gross projectiles was not something very high up on her to-do list.

Her heels pounded the ground beneath her as she began walking down the hallway, and knowing she had to be presentable for her parent's goodbye, she tucked a stray hair back into place. She considered, momentarily, going to her parents room and helping them with their bags, like would be expected of the oldest child, but quickly thought better of it. Anna was still in there saying goodbye, and she didn't want to intrude. Stepping as neatly as she could, Elsa slowly walked over to and descended the fine wooden staircase of the castle, one gloved-hand trailing the railing lightly. She'd meet her parents at the doorway... yes, that seemed the best.

Elsa must have been waiting for at least fifteen minutes at the foot of the staircase, standing stalk still with her hands clasped nervously in her lap. It took all her effort not to wring them together, but she had long since mastered the art of not moving, and if not for the obvious life in her eyes, passers-by could have easily mistaken her for an intricately carved statue.

She knew that her parents were finally coming downstairs before she had even gotten the chance to look up. She heard their footsteps as they walked simultaneously down the stair case, the click of her mother's heels sounding almost rhythmic next to the deep stamping of her father's boots, and she forced herself into a little curtsey just in time for them to approach her.

She thought she'd gotten over the fact of their departure a week ago, thought she was strong enough to sit there and smile as they said their goodbyes for possibly the last time in her life, but when she looked up into her parents eyes, saw them standing side by side above her as they had done so many times before, the little smile she had tried to force onto her face faded into nothingness, and a swirl of sick nostalgia began to pulse through her heart.

Her father. He was standing so tall and proud in front of her, his eyes full of warmth and kindness, all of it directed at her. Her mother. She was standing there, smiling, with a gentle hand placed delicately on his shoulder. So small and quiet, yet at the same time the most intelligent woman Elsa had ever known.

They had been in her life for as long as she had been alive...though, admittedly, the fact that they were her parents made that pretty much a given...and she had loved them for exactly that long. It had been a while since the girl had thought back to her childhood, or at least her childhood pre-incident, but as she stood there, looking up at them with so much longing and love, memory after memory raced through her mind.

She remembered the way, back when she was nothing more than a bright-faced, bright-eyed five year old, her father would come home each day very late at night. He'd always just finished a long, boring meeting with his economic or military advisers, and was probably in a very cranky mood, just wanting to trudge upstairs and get to bed. Yet, whenever he entered the castle, only to find Elsa sitting by the door and waiting for him, all of that bitterness seemed to melt away. He would grab her in his arms and hold her tight and swing her around and around in the air, and she would just let him, laughing and screaming and giggling like it was the most wonderful thing in the world. And, in her mind, it was. It always was.

And then there was her mother. So sweet and kind and lovely. In the earliest years of childhood, Elsa had the fondest memories of curling up in her mother's lap after her nightly bath, reading her favorite storybooks aloud as the woman ran a wooden brush down her long, white locks, her other hand resting warmly on Elsa's arm. When the story was finished and her hair wound up neatly into a braid, little Elsa would lean her head back against her mother's shoulder, curling up in her arms, and soon drift off into a pleasant, dream-filled sleep. Always, she would wake up next morning back in bed, tucked carefully beneath the covers. Always, she felt the ghost of her mother's kiss still tingling the skin of her cheek.

Those times were long gone... logically, Elsa knew this. But emotionally? Emotionally, she was still that same five-year-old girl she had been so long ago. She was still being lifted into the air and swung around and around and around in her father. She was still falling asleep in her mother's lap and being carried lovingly back to bed. She was still holding their hands and kissing their cheeks and laughing so childishly at their jokes. She had grown up, but deep down she was still that little girl. And she knew she would always be.

So, as she looked up into her parents eyes, felt their pressence and attention press upon her face, only one thought crossed her mind. And she voiced it without even a hint of hesitation.

"Do you have to go?"

She was pleading with them, but as much as it hurt her pride to accept, there was no denying it. Her eyes were wide and desperate, her mouth turned downwards in a fearful grimace. She looked her father dead on, her icy blue orbs meeting his warm brown ones, and without a single word added, she told him everything. Everything. She told him how much she loved him, how much she loved her mother, how scared she was of losing them, how she would do _anything _to keep them safe. How she needed them. She told that all with a single glance, in a fraction of a second. It was impossible, but true. She really needed them.

She knew it was stupid to even think like that, but at that moment, she felt as if it were her last chance. Her last chance to get them to stay. To save their lives. If he didn't agree to stay home and stay safe, she didn't know what she'd do. She wouldn't be able to do _anything, _for that matter. She'd be empty.

For a moment, a single beautiful moment as her father looked straight back at her, she felt a tinge of hope start to blossom like a flower in her chest. She saw pity in his eyes. Sympathy. Love. If only he had loved her enough.

"You'll be fine, Elsa."

The girl's heart fell to her feet. She was wrong. He didn't understand her at all. He could see nothing.

Her father thought she was worried about _herself, _of all things. He thought she was feeling anxious about her powers, about keeping Anna away from her while the two of them were gone. Didn't he understand? Hadn't she already _explained _this to him? It wasn't herself she was worried about, it was them! And she _needed_ them, that was more than true. If they didn't come back... well, she didn't know what she'd do. She'd most certainly _not_ be fine. Not at all.

Sensing her distress, Elsa's mother stepped forward, looking as mature and beautiful as always, and threw her arms around her daughter without even a hint of warning. For a moment, the girl stood stalk still, unable to comprehend the way those fragile yet strong arms wrapped so comfortably around her neck. Her breathing stopped cold, but still she could feel her mother's warm, repeated breaths beating consistantly against her neck. After what seemed like hours, though could've only been moments, Elsa finally allowed her eyes to slip closed, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist as she returned the hug.

"Don't worry, honey. It'll all be alright. It'll all be alright. Trust us... we're doing this because we love you."

The words were almost unbelievable. Unimaginable in every single way. Elsa hadn't heard the woman speak so deeply to her, hadn't interacted so warmly with her, in... years. So, so many years.

Her father had always been the one to deal with Elsa. The one to scold her when she did wrong, the one to pull her back when she walked out of line. The one to make all of the tough decisions. She knew, had always known, that her mother and father had agreed to this in the very beginning. Mother was too kind, Father had told her when she was merely twelve-years-old, too soft. She didn't have the heart to see her daughter struggle so hopelessly. Didn't have the heart to watch her go through all that pain and not do a thing about it. But she had known, really, that it was for the best. So, her parents agreed, dealing with Elsa was father's job, and dealing with Anna would be mother's. It was for the best, they told her. Elsa had always thought that parenting was a two-person kind of work, but she guessed she was wrong. They were her parents. They knew better, after all.

For a long time, now, Elsa had seen little to nothing of her mother. They wouldn't talk, they wouldn't laugh, they would barely even look at each other. During family dinners, the one impossibly long dining table dressed with four sets of dish ware, Mother and Anna sat on one end, while she and Father sat on the other. And on those rare occasions when their eyes actually _did_ meet-Elsa and her mother looking straight into each other's souls-all Elsa could see were two strong, horribly conflicting emotions. Fear, fear of her powers and her lack of control and the monster that lived inside of her very daughter, and Love. Love. Mother had loved her, too. Just as much as Father had loved her. But just like Father, she had never loved her quite enough. Fear was always just a little bit stronger than love. And fear always prospered. Fear always prospered.

Now, Elsa knew where she got it from.

Far too quickly, yet after far too long, Mother pulled away from the hug, looking Elsa deep in the eyes.

"See you soon. Be good."

And that had been it, really. That was all. Final goodbyes were given, Anna gave another set of hugs, and Elsa watched from the window as the two of them loaded themselves into the large, wooden ship, the sky a beautiful shade of orange behind them, and disappeared forever. Despite her own pleas of denial, telling herself over and over again that she was being paranoid, the girl made herself absorb every image her eyes could pick up. Absorb the way her father's crown rested so perfectly on his head, straight and tall and polished, just like_ he_ always was. Absorb the way her mother's dress fluttered so gracefully at her ankles, like a flower's petals, as she stepped onto the boat. Absorb the way the two held hands as they started their decent, drifting farther and farther and farther away until they were nothing but specks in the distance. And then... they were gone. Just gone.

Blinking away the memory of their shrinking silhouettes, Elsa slowly turned away from the window, hands held firmly behind her back. Despite her formal composure, the girl nearly fell over when she found Anna standing only inches away from her, eyes still glued to the window. Very quickly, her innocent blue orbs flitted to Elsa's face, and Elsa saw the sadness swimming deep inside them. Her parents, Elsa realized, were Anna's only friends. Without them... well, she was all alone. They both were.

"How long do you think they'll be gone?"

Anna's voice was so soft, filled with so much longing, that if she hadn't been staring right at her, Elsa would've doubted that the sound had come from her usually cheerful sister. It was weird to see her so upset over their departure, simply because it wasn't even half as bad for Anna as it was for her. To Anna, their parents were only going on a week-long trading excursion, not on a ride to their death. Anna wouldn't have much to worry about when they were gone. But then again, it would be that much worse for the girl if they really _did_ die out there...

Suddenly, Elsa felt a strong sense of pity begin to swirl inside her heart. The answer to her sister's question came to her as naturally as her powers always did.

_Forever._

But... no. She couldn't say that to the girl. What kind of monster would she be? She needed to be... supportive. If only she knew how.

"Um... I'm sure they'll be back within a week or so. Don't worry, they won't be gone long."

At that, Anna had looked just the littlest bit hopeful, and for Elsa, that was enough. In an instant, she had retreated to her room. Simply walked away and strutted right back up the stairs, hiding herself, as she always did, in the cage of her own solitude. She left Anna still staring out that window, Elsa's lie still ringing out into the air. It would never stop ringing. Never stop ringing.

The next week passed by so slowly, it was nearly unbearable. Time seemed to have gone on a permanent vacation, and Elsa found herself spending every hour of every day staring blankly out her bedroom window. Oh, she tried to read, but concentration seldom came, and soon she just gave up. Instead, during all hours of the day, she just gazed at the outside. The place she hadn't set foot in for nearly ten years. The place her parents had done such a wonderful job restricting her from.

Her parents. They would be back. She knew they would... they had to. She was only being paranoid, before. Paranoid and fearful and childish. Things would all be alright, she felt stupid for even believing otherwise. What had she been thinking? Nobody was out to murder the King and Queen of Arendelle. They had never done a thing to harm another empire, so no empire would ever do a thing to harm them. That was logical, wasn't it? Maybe the kingdom that they had come in contact with really _did _have a cure for Elsa. Maybe they would give it to her and finally, _finally_, she could be a normal girl again. The gates could open and she could take off her stupid gloves and she and Anna could start to become friends again. Without her powers, without the curse of ice and snow to follow her around and cause havoc wherever she dared tread, she could do... could do... _anything! _Anything at all! Oh, she was being so close-minded and foolish, before. Of course there was a cure for her powers, there had to be! And of course her mother and father would find it, they'd always come through for her before! They would find it and cure her and then, for the first time in forever, she'd be _free!_ Freer than she could ever imagine. It would be amazing, magnificent, miraculous! When her parents returned... her life would begin.

And she simply couldn't wait any longer.

...

It was a little more than two weeks after her parents departure when she finally got the news.

She should have expected it, really. The day the letter arrived, Anna had been downstairs and right out in the open, so of course the girl had been the first to know. Elsa should have expected it the exact moment that she had heard that cry. That horrible, infamous cry. She'd never heard, never even dreamed of hearing, such a heart wrenching, pitiful sound from the mouth of her own sister. Not cheery, optimistic little Anna. Never.

Yet, there it was. One second, she had been engaged in a novel about the physics of sailing, the next, her state of tranquility was shattered. Even through her closed door, even an entire staircase away, she still heard as Anna crashed to the floor far below her, an unearthly gasp escaping her lips, followed suit by a wail one might expect to hear from a dying cat. In only moments, Elsa heard the sound of rushing footsteps passed her door, accompanied by a loud, muffled sobbing as Anna cried into her hands. Then there was the sound of a door being slammed shut, and Elsa knew that Anna had withdrawn into her room, just as she herself always did. That had been a clear sign that something was utterly, horribly wrong.

But Elsa still had not expected it. The thought didn't even cross her mind, she wouldn't let it. She told herself that Anna had probably just been trying to flirt with that cute stableboy again, and he had rejected her due to the fact that she was five years too young for him. That was all. Anna was just being silly. That was all.

After forcing denial into her aching heart, Elsa barely even heard the light, nervous tap on her door. She bit her lip, slowed down her breathing, and then chocked out a response.

"Who is it?"

The answer was instantaneous. The voice sounded hurried and desperate.

"I am here to deliver an urgent message to you, Princess Elsa of Arendelle."

A message? She had never gotten any messages before. That was odd.

"Oh," she found herself saying, her voice flat, "Then I shall receive it."

Her body moved without asking her mind for permission. Before long, she was standing on one side of an open doorway, face-to-face with a castle servant. She could tell that the man was not having his best of days, just from first glance. Huge, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his eyebrows were twisted upwards in what seemed like a permanent look of distress. Elsa pitied the man. Though, by the look of his expression, it almost seemed as if he pitied her.

There was silence for an awkward moment, so Elsa forced herself to speak up.

"My message?"

"Oh, yes," the man cleared his throat, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment, "I have... urm... a note for you. From a neighboring kingdom. Our closest ally, in fact. I would like to suggest-with all due respect, Princess-that you sit down while you read it. It would have saved some bloody knees had I had the premonition to warn your sister."

For the first time, Elsa noticed the scrap of parchment clutched in the man's shaky, withered hand. He held it out, and very delicately, as if it were a volcano ready to erupt, she grabbed it in her own. It was from one of Arendelle's closest allies, a kingdom called Corona. It wasn't where her parents had been traveling to, so she figured that that was a good sign. Taking a deep breath, trying not to remind herself that her world might end at any moment, Elsa unrolled the paper and began to read. She had forgotten to sit down. She wished she hadn't.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Princesses of Arendelle, <em>

_...We highly regret having to inform you of this,_

_but someone must, and no matter who tells you, we_

_know the pain you will experience will be no less real. So, _

_Elsa and Anna of Arendelle, we send our deepest regards _

_with the message that your mother and father, the King_

_and Queen of your fine kingdom, have been pronounced_

_dead._

_...Less than twenty-four hours ago, a few of our navy _

_ships came across some wreckage in the ocean nearest _

_our sea port. Unfortunately, all bodies have yet to be_

_discovered, but upon closer inspection, many pieces _

_of the __ship's wooden boards were inscribed with_

_Arendelle's __signature markings. _

_...We understand that __your parents __were voyaging to_

_ a distant empire before their __tragic death, __and it can _

_be assumed that they were __mistakenly directed __into _

_the path of a violent, storming sea, __one rumored by _

_some __to be 'internally cursed with rage.' __True or not, _

_their death seems to be nothing more than __a mistake. _

_A tragic one, of course, but no investigation __seems to _

_be necessary. Of course, as your neighboring nation,_

_we wish you the best, and hope you continue to _

_survive and prosper._

_-Sending our deepest regards, the King and Queen of Corona._

* * *

><p>When Elsa looked up from the parchment, her knees incredibly weak and her hands shaking wildly, she saw the servant staring at her, his eyes wide and fearful. He was probably expecting her to react the same as Anna. To cry and scream and wail like the pained soul she knew she was. And deep down, Elsa almost wanted to. But she couldn't. Being the way she was... she couldn't react to these types of situations the way normal people could. Even in moments as dire and dark as these, she had to hold herself together.<p>

Gritting her teeth, Elsa reacted the only way she could manage.

"Thank you for the message," she said abruptly, thrusting the paper back into his hand, "I... should get back to my studies, now. If you come across any more information, feel free to contact me again."

Then she slammed the door right then and there, and waited in silence as the man slowly toddled off to spread the heartbreaking, home-wreaking news. She felt the vibrations deep down from within her very bones, and before she knew it, she had slid to the ground at the exact spot she stood. And she had broken.

...

Time passed in a blur. Her memories of the next two weeks were scattered and distant. A mix of streaming tears, of tingling fury, of murdering despair, of unplacable anger. So many times Anna had come by pounding on the door, screaming and crying and _begging_ for some form, any form, of comfort. But, no matter what, Elsa had to stay silent. Her parents were dead... but the rules were still the same.

It had been snowing non-stop in her room for days. Her bedpost was slick with ice and her walls white with frost. She was literally living in a winter wonderland. Though, in all honesty, it wasn't as wonderful as it sounded. She should've had more control over herself, should've been able to deal with this, or at least that was what she told herself over and over again. She _had_ been expecting it, after all. But that didn't really seem to matter. Expecting it or not, the pain she felt was real. Her parents were dead. And they were never coming back. She was alone.

One day-Elsa wasn't sure how long it had been after the news, though it surely felt like decades-as she had sat shivering on the floor, Elsa had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the far side of the wall. That horrible, reflective piece of glass. She hated it without a second thought, but what she hated more was the thing she saw inside of it.

Across from her face, nose-to-nose, was some vile, despicable creature. It crouched on the floor, dress caked in ice, ripped to shreds from constant thawing and refreezing. At the base of its head was a wild, blond-white main, hair flying out everywhere, seeming almost crystallized with all the frost collecting on its shiny surface. It wasn't a pretty sight... but its eyes, oh they were the worst. She didn't even need to see the tears streaming down them, didn't even need to notice their puffy redness, or pick up the huge bags that hung beneath. Just looking into those swirling pits of despair was enough. The creature was a miserable thing. Depressing and horrifying and monstrous. It sat there, drowning in its own guilt and shame and sorrow, feeling sorry for itself like a sick sort of toddler. Oh, what a pitiful creature. What a pitiful beast. What a pitiful monster.

What a pitiful queen, Elsa was. What a pitiful queen.

Suddenly, as had happened so often before, Elsa's sadness was replaced by blinding fury, and she hoped to her feet. The world turned black and red, and she felt the undeniable urge to destroy something just the same way that the universe seemed to be intent on destroying _her. _She looked at herself once again in the reflective glass. The way her face was contorted in an angry, broken grimace. The way her fists were clenched so tight, her eyes narrowed so evilly. She really did look like a monster. And if she was a monster... well, then she figured she'd better start acting like it.

As she twisted her face into a rather disturbed grin, Elsa stuck out one of her hands and released a small, yet powerful, blast of ice. It bounced against the mirror's surface with an earsplitting crack, and when the cloud of frost disapated from the air, she saw that she had created a huge, jagged line down its formerly-perfect features.

"That's for torturing the woman," she said, her voice filled with an insanity she had never known she had possessed.

She stuck out her other hand. Without even a second thought, another burst of ice shot from it, and another crack appeared in the mirror.

"That's for murdering Benson." Her voice was getting louder now. It was steady, but in an unsettling kind of way. She didn't know what was happening to her, what was making her go so out of control, or what she was even doing in the first place, but she knew it couldn't be good. She didn't care.

"That's for locking me up!" Another burst of ice. And another. "That's for hurting Anna in the process!"

The fury was so strong now. It boiled in her stomach, in her chest, in her lungs like the hottest pit of lava mother nature would ever dare to create. It was strange, for a girl made of ice, but she loved it. She thrived on it. She fed on it.

_CRASH_

"That's for making me love you even when I know I have every right to hate your guts!"

She was ready to spill over, now. Ready to collapse on the spot and explode with all the rampaging emotions in her heart.

_BANG_

"That's for building my dungeon, and avoiding me when I needed you the most, and being completely _terrified_ of me!"

That shot, specifically, was for her mother.

SCREECH

"That's for making me fear_ myself_ more than anything...and for turning me into such a monster!"

For her father, of course. It could only be.

BOOM

"And _THAT'S_ for dying!"

Her last shot was a hundred times stronger than all the others, she simply couldn't hold back, and the mirror immediately shattered into thousands of pieces. Shards of glass flew into the air and littered the room like diamonds. Unaware of anything else but the swirling storm inside her, Elsa slowly fell to her knees, bringing her hands to her face in the process. The glass and ice pierced her skin like a million tiny knives. She didn't even notice.

"Why did you have to _die?"_ she whispered to no one in particular, the tears beginning to well up again, "I _needed _you. I still do."

There was no answer, of course, and soon she found herself looking up. Looking up at the mess she had created.

The shattered glass... it was her life. She saw from every piece of it, every single shard that stretched across her tundra of a room, a distorted reflection of herself. Broken and tortured and so grossly deformed. Once, so long ago, she had been whole. Whole and strong and beautiful. Been a mirror without a single scratch to mare her perfect surface. But time had taken its toll. She had received crack after crack, time after time, after each incident getting just a little bit closer to falling apart. And the last blow life had given her, the death of the only two people left in the world who still knew her secret, was the final one. The deadly one. It had shattered her into as many pieces as the mirror itself... and there was no going back. She would always be shattered.

Her mother and father were dead. She had told herself this hundreds of times in the past few days, yet she could never seem to believe it. She couldn't. If they were dead... that meant that it was her fault. They had died on her name, gone to fetch a cure for the incurable disease of her very existence, and she would always hold that in her heart, no matter how hard she tried to shake the feeling of such pressing guilt. And she would always, always remember the way she had just stood there, by the window, and watched them go. She had _known _that she might never see them again, and yet she had let them go, anyway. Watched them step onto their own, watery death. If they were really dead... she would die with them.

Elsa let out a chocked, miserable, gasping sound, feeling repulsed with herself as she released it, yet unable to hold it back. She knew, now, what had happened. The empire that her mother and father had contacted, filled with people who were apparently knowledgeable in the universe of magic, had indeed invited them over to die... just not in the way Elsa had expected. They had given her parents a map, a map that led right to the 'cursed' waters, on the soul intention of sinking their boat. Of course they didn't want Elsa to come with... she could've frozen some of the water, if she wanted to, or even built a new ice-ship right then and there. What a fool she was, letting her parents leave like that. What a fool her _father_ was, not seeing the truth. Suddenly, deep down to her very core, she hated him. Hated him with all of her being. And then the love returned, quick as it had vanished, and she gasped from the shame.

Above everything, there was one thing Elsa could never forget. When she had finished reading the letter, her mind just grasping the impossible fact that she was an orphan, her first feeling, the one that had come to her most naturally, was one of relief. Her parents were dead... and she was _relieved_._  
><em>

If that didn't make her a monster, nothing would.

...

Five days after that incident was her parent's funeral. She watched it from her bedroom window.

It was sad, seeing her parent's gravestones standing tall and lonely on the hill, the cloudy sky darkening slowly behind them as if marking the end of an era. It was sad, knowing that they weren't really gravestones at all, just monuments, as no bodies had ever been found. It was sad, realizing that it was really all over, that she would never see her parents again.

But watching Anna standing there all alone, dressed in the driearest of black with invisible lines of water trailing down her face... that was more than sad. It was heartbreaking.

She couldn't stand it... she couldn't stand _herself._ Letting her little sister deal with something as painful as this all by herself. She should've been there for her. Should've held her hand and hugged her tight and let her cry into her shoulder. And if only she could've... then maybe things wouldn't have been so hard on the both of them. But, no... she couldn't. She was a mess right now. The ice, the snow, the wreckage. It was everywhere. It was quite evident, now, that whatever self-control she had gained with Benson so many years ago had long been lost. Her powers were stronger and more out-of-control than ever. She couldn't let Anna see. She'd know, and then the whole world would know, and facade that she and her father had spent so many years perfecting would be destroyed in minutes. Her father was dead, but she had to keep his legacy alive. She would not disappoint him. Just as he'd wanted of her, she would be strong, her feelings concealed, and would eventually become queen of Arendelle. That was her destiny, and it was not in her right to adjust it.

Oh, poor Anna. Poor girl. She would never understand. She would always feel alone and unloved and unwanted. If only she knew... if only Elsa had the right, the ability, to tell her. But, of course, she didn't, and wishing otherwise simply wouldn't do a thing. The best thing Elsa could do for her sister would be to just wait and hope that, one day, she'd be able to get away from this castle. Go out into the world and meet new friends and find people who not only loved her, but were able to show their love without fear or consequence. Anna, though her days were lonely, still had hope for a happy future. If only she could say the same for herself...

Even listening in through her open window, Elsa could tell that the funeral was long and dreary, not a happy experience for anyone. Anna stood, sad and alone, between her parent's gravestones, nearly every other resident of the small kingdom standing and watching from ten-feet-away, and Elsa found herself tuning out through the majority of the speeches. They were spoken mostly by the king's and queen's officials... people who had only known her parents on a professional level, not who they really were inside... and were all fairly similar in structure. They went on and on about her parents' 'strength,' and 'smarts,' and 'fairness,' discussing everything there was about raising a kingdom, as if this were the only thing either of them had ever done. As if they hadn't loved and raised two difficult _children... _what Elsa considered the hardest job of all. But, oh well. She guessed she really didn't expect them to understand, anyway. To them, to the entire world, the king and queen would always be just that. The king and queen. Sure, many of the townsfolk bawled their eyes out, clearly grief-stricken over the loss, but they didn't really understand. They hadn't lost their parents, people who'd loved them and raised them and guarded them for their entire lives. They'd only lost a pair of decent rulers, and clearly that wasn't the same thing. Not at all.

The only words that didn't seem to make a complete mockery of her parents' existence, just out of the mere shallowness of personal knowledge, was Anna's speech herself. Though, in all honesty, most of it consisted of words Elsa had written.

Of course, being their daughter, everyone in the kingdom expected Anna to read something aloud at the ceremony, even if she had nothing at all to say. Then again, Elsa was expected of the same. She had gotten out of it by claiming sickness, but Anna had no such lying skills. And so there she had been, all alone on that hill, speaking about her dead parents.

"My mom and dad," Anna began, her voice quivering as she stared down solemnly at her feet, "Were great people. Really, honestly, they were... and its just not fair that they had to go this way. Out of every noble way they could've died, it was from an accident of nature, something that could have been prevented, and its just not fair. I-I don't know what to say, really. I mean, I just loved them so much, its hard to put that all into words. They weren't just great rulers... they were the greatest parents I could have ever asked for... and I'm sure, if she were able to be here, Elsa would say the same. She, um, sent me some words this morning to read off of, and I guess now would be a good time to share them..."

Elsa couldn't help leaving at least _something_ for her parents. Last night, until the moon shown high and bright in the sky and the wolves howled in the distance, she had been working on this mini-speech of hers. Just to give a little piece of her parents to the world. Just to let them be loved by the people by at least a fraction as much as they were loved by her. So, early in the morning, she had slipped that piece of parchment under Anna's door. She was glad the girl had gotten it. Slowly, she cleared her throat and began to read.

"The king and queen of Arendelle were wise and fair rulers, and I'm quite sure that their people could not have asked for any two people better suited for the job. They were firm, yet gentle. Intelligent, yet open-minded. Strong, yet kind. Those are traits often overlooked, yet very important in a king and queen, and I cannot be prouder of my parents for possessing such honerable, well-sought-after traits. Their death was tragic, as all death is, and I'm sure the kingdom of Arendelle will mourn greatly for the loss of their beloved rulers.

"Yet, I am a firm believer that my parents were more than just a king and queen. They were more than just the work and the responsibilities and the formalities that you all know them by. They were also, if you can believe this, my mother and father, and that is something I will never forget. They showed me love where I thought there was none, forgiveness hidden within the spinning black-hole of blame, and acceptance of mistakes that are buried far too deeply in the past to ever be changed. They were flawed in some ways, my parents, but that comes with the definition of being human, I believe, and I am saddened to think that it took me until their death to realize this. Without their continued support and comfort, I don't know where I would be right now, and I certainly don't know how I'm going to make it in the future. I love them, though. More than I can say. Long live the king and queen. May God bless them."

Anna had to stop there, she was tearing up so badly, and thinking it was over, the crown chorused 'God bless them' to finish off her speech. Even from such a distance, Elsa could see her sister crying. The way she rubbed her eyes so furiously, shaking her head and biting her lip, her shoulders shaking like scared mice in a trap. Poor girl, poor girl. Slowly, she pushed her tears away and continued.

"On a happier note, I, Elsa, the current princess of Arendelle, will be taking the throne no less than three years from now, when I come of age. During the time lapse, I will prepare myself vigorously for the complexity of this role, and in the meanwhile, one of my father's closest advisers will be running the kingdom. In only a matter of time, power will be restored to my bloodline, and I will carry on my parents' legacy. Thank you for coming here to pay your respects... and good luck."

At this, though quite untypical at a funeral, the crowd dressed all in black erupted in whoops and applause, and Elsa groaned inwardly. Her father's adviser had required she include this little statement in whatever she wrote, in needs of informing the public of the new situation, but the girl didn't like it one bit. It sort of turned the attention away from her parents on their 'last day.' Turned it right towards herself. And somehow, that made her feel extremely guilty. But politics was politics... if these were the types of things queens had to do, she'd just have to learn to live with it.

The rest of the funeral went by without another meaningful moment, and soon Elsa was watching as her sister, looking like death himself in that drear, black clock, shuffled inside. Poor girl, poor girl. Quickly, Elsa got up from her window seat and moved to her bedroom door, checking to see that it was locked. Somehow, she already knew where Anna was going to go next.

Five minutes later, Elsa heard the inevitable tapping on her door. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.

"Elsa?"

Oh no, she wasn't sure if she could handle this. Anna had already come banging at her door plenty of times this past week, broken and hysterical, begging for love. It was so hard to ignore her before... but after watching her so alone and scared at the funeral, Elsa was sure that this time it would be impossible.

"Please, I know you're in there."

_Go away, Anna. Please._

"People are asking where you've been."

_If only they knew. If only YOU knew._

"They say have courage, and I'm trying to!"

_You're the bravest person I know. _

"I'm right out here for you!"

_I know you are, you always are._

"Just let me in!"

_I can't, I can't, I CAN'T. _

Elsa was struggling not to cry, now. Because Anna's voice... her happy, shining, melodious voice... just sounded so broken. So twisted and hurt and in pain. And Elsa knew she could do nothing about it. Suddenly, memories from long, long ago flooded into her mind, and she shuddered despite herself.

Little Anna. Jumping from snow bank to snow bank as she laughed her little head off. Little Elsa. Creating beautiful, magical things just so she could hear that laugh again and again. A tiredness, an exhaustion, stretching over herself as she realized that she was pushing her powers too far. A cry of "Slow down!" drowned out by more laughter. A failure to catch her sister as she fell. A fear in the pit of her stomach as the girl went flying through the air. One last burst of terrified ice. A strike to the head. A body pounding to the ground. A scream. A cry. A frozen little girl.

Elsa gulped, but the images kept coming. Trying to cling onto reality, she stared at the explosion of ice and snow all over her room. At the proof that she had absolutely no control over herself.

Mama and Papa holding the little girl to their chest. Elsa clinging onto their arms for dear life, guilt and fear tightening her chest to the point of suffocation. Riding on the back of a horse with Father, a stream of ice marking their path on the grassy ground. The short, strange troll staring down at her sister. Touching her head and erasing her precious memories. Telling Elsa that she needed to control her powers, to control her burning fear, or she'd become a monster. Father holding her and nodding and promising to keep her seperated for as long as it took. Walking home with her parents, a sleeping Anna in their arms, as they explained to her that from now on, everything would change. And change it did. Nothing was ever the same after that.

"We only have each other!"

_No, we don't, Anna! Stay away from me, I'm only going to hurt you again._

_"_It's just you, and me,"

_Find someone else. I'm sorry, I just can't be there for you!_

"What are we gonna do?"

_Oh, Anna, I don't know. I really don't. _

Elsa's heart was in the process of shattering, and above the sound of it she only barely heard as the girl pressed her back to the door, sliding down it until she sat on the carpeted ground. Slowly, Elsa followed her, pressing her knees to her chest and trying so, so hard to keep it all in. Yet knowing she never could.

She and her sister were so close now, separated by only a single doorway. But really, they had never been so far away. Anna was reaching for her, aching for her, especially at a time like this, but always she would have to be turned away. Because, no matter how long ago it had been, Elsa could not forgot the day that she had nearly killed her little sister. And she could not forgot the fact that at any moment, she could do it again. No matter how close they were physically, they would never be together. Because Anna was so soft, and innocent, and delicate. And the destruction of her, if it ever happened, would be the destruction of the world itself. Elsa simply couldn't take that risk.

Suddenly, from the other side of the doorway, the girl heard a little sniff.

"Do you want to build a snowman..."

_Yes, Anna, of course I do. I love you. _

Suddenly, feeling her emotions begin to surge, Elsa leaned her head forward and pressed her face into her hands. Soon, the tears were flooding from her eyes, slightly dimming what she knew could never truly be washed away. The girl just sat there, surrounded by her own explosion of ice, falling apart at the seams.

If only she could build a snowman. Then everything would be alright.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, it was a bit depression...but I hope you liked it! Next chapter is going to be just a collection of important bits from the movie, which takes place three years from now. Like I said before, I'll update as soon as I can. Please read and review ;). <strong>


	9. The Coronation

**Wow, I'm so sorry for being so late! I've just been so incredibly busy these last few weeks, it's insane. This chapter in particular took me forever, as it's basically just my own interpretations of Elsa's thoughts during certain events of Frozen, and I had to spend SO much time looking online at youtube videos to make sure I had included the correct dialogue and actions. It was EXHAUSTING (but necessary), and I am proud to say that I have finally finished.**

**Sorry, this really isn't as well written as it could've been, and it's not completely interesting either, since there's no original material in it. It also happens to be the longest chapter yet, so I hope you at least partially enjoy it. I think it was a necessary addition to this fanfic, so I guess I can't really regret writing it.**

**Remember, this story takes place three years after the death of Elsa's parents, when she is twenty-one, about to be made queen, and all the events of 'Frozen' occur. From beginning to end, the scenes I wrote about were 1)Elsa in her room before the ****coronation, 2)Elsa and Anna's discussion/fight at the coronation party, 3)Elsa during 'Let it Go,' 4) Elsa trapped in her dungeon, 5) Anna saving Elsa's life. There were some other scenes that I kind of wished I could include (including the epic fight scene in the ice castle), but didn't for time reasons. I narrowed it down to those five scenes for important character-development, so hopefully you can see what I was trying to show through them. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Today was the day. <em>The day<em>.

It was not the training day, not the day for preparation, not even the day of the rehearsal. It was _the_ day_._ The day all of it-every, single little aspect of her life-either completely ended, or completely began. She didn't exactly know which, and in a way, she almost didn't want to know. Maybe, just maybe, it was both... but who could tell?. All she understood was that it was going to lead to some very intense change to her quiet, secluded life in her bedroom, change that she wasn't quite sure she was prepared for just yet. And as for what form of change it was, she could only guess. Only time would tell.

It was strange. She'd spent her entire life being trained for one purpose and one purpose only... becoming queen. And she had always, or almost always, strove towards that purpose with as much vigor and grace as she could manage. During the last three years of her life-the years in which she had adjusted to an existence without her mother and father by her side-she had even started to _think_ of herself as a queen, not even needing the official ceremony to advance from her former title. When she looked in the mirror, it was not Princess Elsa she saw, but Queen Elsa: the one and only. A queen now, a queen then, a queen always. It had been in her blood since the beginning. One would think that one silly little ritual to make it final wouldn't really be such a worrisome and nerve-wrecking thing.

Oh, but it was. More than she could imagine.

_Don't let them in, don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be. _

How could she concentrate with that bubble of fear expanding and contracting so rapidly in her chest? How could she breath when her own anticipation squeezed and strangled her lungs like a balloon being twisted into the shape of an animal? How could she stand up there, in front of the entire world, and just smile as if nothing was bothering her, as if her whole world wasn't a mistake away from coming apart? And, most importantly, how could she keep herself from revealing her powers when all her overactive nerves made her a ticking, icy time-bomb?

_Conceal, don't feel. Put on a show. _

It was hopeless, she knew it was. Even as she held the small, golden relics in her ungloved hand-merely replicas of the ancient objects she would have to clasp in her actual coronation-she could not even begin to control herself. Her sheer nerves covered their bases with a thick, unignorable layer of frost and snow, and before long they had turned to icicles in her palms. If she couldn't hold herself in up here, alone and safe in her room, how could she possibly expect to do it in front of a crowd of thousands of people? She couldn't, that was the unarguable truth.

_Make one wrong move and everyone will know._

Today, she knew, was the day everything would change for her. The day that she, and her parents, and her entire kingdom had waited for since the very moment she had been brought into the earth. From here on out, her life had the ability to spiral off into two different, equally terrifying directions. One, she could somehow manage to make it through the day, spending the rest of her life as the queen of Arendelle as she juggled both her responsibilities, and her secret, in the palm of her hand. Or two, she could freak out and completely ruin her chances at a semi-normal life, having to flee under all her peoples' accusing, hateful stares and start her new life as a runaway.

At the moment, neither option seemed like a desirable one, but oh-well. She figured it didn't really matter much, anyway. No good worrying about it, not when there was nothing she could do to change it. She was as ready as she'd ever be, and there was not a thing in the world that would allow her to stray from the path that lay so ominously awaiting her. There was nothing she could do, nothing she'd ever be able to do, to alter her destiny. Either she was going to survive, or she wasn't. It was as simple as that. She just needed to stop her hopeless worrying and _calm _down. Life was life.

_But it's only for today. It's agony to wait._

Taking a deep breathe, forcing herself to be brave despite the fear that swirled so perilously within her, Elsa made up her mind. And when that girl made up her mind, she seldom changed it. In one quick swish of her dress, accomplishing a complete spin on the ground below her, she turned to face the servant that sat complacently by her doorway, waiting for command. Well, if command he wanted, command he would get.

"Tell the guards to open up the gates!"

Today was the day. And it was time. May fate have mercy on her soul.

* * *

><p>"You look beautiful."<p>

In Elsa's opinion, truer words had never been spoken. With her hair tied intricately into a formal-yet-playful bun at the back of her head, a springy green dress complimenting her youth and childlike joy, and an expression of pure excitement glowing from her hopeful face, Anna was the mere picture of perfection. Maybe she didn't know it, the way she so awkwardly scurried up onto the stage-unsure and confused and clumsy-but really, those qualities were all what made her so incredibly wonderful. There was perfection in flaws, Elsa knew. There was also perfection in a heart of gold and a mind of curiosity. Anna had all those things. Elsa did not.

"Oh... thank you!"

She sounded so surprised at the words. Elsa didn't blame her. It had been weeks since the two had even said three words to each other, much less had an actual conversation. Talking like this was so unexpected, so odd. Elsa didn't even know why she was doing it, really. Anna just looked so wonderful right now. So breathtakingly beautiful, struggling in that precious stage between child and adult, full of grace and clumsiness, youthful joy and maturity. She looked just like the little girl, just like the powerful woman, that Elsa had for years longed to know. Stronger than she had felt in a while, the queen just had this inexplicable urge to connect with this missing part of her life. Or, at the very least, have a short chat.

"You look beautifuller!" Anna continued, eyes wide and desperate, determined not to mess up, "I mean, not fuller. You don't look fuller. But more... more beautiful."

Elsa tried to stifle her giggle. She was too cute, her little sister. Such a lovely little creature. What Elsa wouldn't give to be that free-spirited, to be that precious. To be the air-headed princess rather than the cold-shouldered queen.

"Thank you," she replied, the smile warm and pleasantly unfamiliar on her face. There was a moment of comfortable silence, but Elsa quickly broke it, determined to squeeze as much bonding out of this situation as possible.

"So..." she released her words like a breath of fresh air, turning towards the crowd of dancing, mingling civilians, "This is what a party looks like."

Her voice sounded so soft and amazed, almost as if she couldn't quite believe that this was happening... and in a way, she couldn't. Just not in the way that Anna must have been expecting. She didn't care much for the party, or the music, or even the dancing. She had always been a bit of an introvert, anyway. The only thing special about this particular ballroom dance was the spunky little red-head standing so beautifully at her side.

"It's warmer than I thought," Anna blurted out suddenly. She released a half-chuckle at the end of the sentence, trying to fill the empty space, but only managed to increase the awkwardness already palpable in the air. She was nervous-Elsa could tell that much just by standing next to her-but she had absolutely no reason to be. She was acting just the way Elsa had always dreamed. So perfectly imperfect.

"What is that amazing smell?"

As something warm and sweet tickled her nostrils, that question blurted out of Elsa's mouth before she could comprehend it, her mouth watering the way it used to when she had been just a little girl, the smell of the chef's gourmet meal drifting up the stairs and under her bedroom door.

Closing her eyes, Elsa lifted her head up, allowing herself to dissolve into the succulent scent. Feel it melting into her very veins, its warmth dissolving into her frosty soul. Suddenly, she was very aware of what it was. Only one food could make her feel like this. Only one food.

"Chocolate!"

Anna and Elsa blurted that word out at the same time, and when they opened their eyes, they were face-to-face, Anna's goofy expression across from Elsa's calm one. Despite herself, Elsa joined Anna in her giggles, her cheeks unnaturally flushed with the joy. It wasn't a very queenlike thing to do, she understood... but oh, how could she help herself? She was with Anna!

When Elsa had been six, Anna a mere three-year-old tottering around the castle like a penguin, the two had always liked to sneak into the pantry on the nights after their parents had held a large banquet. After stealthily moving through some seriously well-guarded hallways, using strategies in which Elsa was very proud, the two would eventually manage to find their way to the largest, tallest, most-delicious stashes of chocolate goods that had ever existed in the world (or, at least, that was what they had assumed). It was like a sweet-tooth's heaven, they thought, and the two sisters would always spend at least an hour down there, stuffing their mouths to the point where they were on the verge of exploding. Elsa was always very careful to cover up her tracks, wiping her face and hands accordingly and making sure her nightgown stayed prim and clean. Anna, however, was not as insightful. Always she'd end up giving them away, either by brown-spattered pj's, a tiny chocolate handprint on the drapes, or a secret greedy stash hidden not-so-well beneath her bed. Elsa was constantly getting grounded for days at a time because of this, yet, somehow, the girl always looked back at those memories with a feeling of overwhelming fondness. Who cared if she hadn't been allowed to go out for a day or two? She and her sister had been best friends... and that was all that had mattered.

When the giggles subsided, the girls turning back to face the crowd, Anna opened her mouth to say something. Elsa would've loved to hear what she had had on her mind-in fact, she practically _lived_ for her melodious voice-if only the Duke of Westleton hadn't interrupted.

The man was short and old, with a monocle over one eye, a far-too-bushy mustache dangling beneath his nose, and an extremely creepy combover sweeping over his wrinkled forehead. He was a strange looking fellow, the girls thought... and a strange acting one, too. Elsa figured he probably would've looked a little better if he wasn't wearing such extravagant clothing. It only made him seem crazier.

After saying a few words-Elsa, admittedly, tuning out through most of them-the duke bowed down to her, his combover flopping off his head in an almost comical sort of way. Again, Elsa found herself giggling with Anna, the two of them acting just like the little girls they used to be. It was so lovely.

For a moment, Elsa backtracked her mind, trying to remember and process what the man had just said to her.

_"As your closest partner in trade, it seems only fitting that I offer you your first dance as queen."_

Oh, yes... that.

"Uh, thank you," Elsa replied, putting on her most false, polite smile, "Only I don't dance."

That was true enough, at least. Certain 'medical afflictions' made dancing with a partner quite impossible for her. Yet, even if she could've, she doubted that the short, balding Duke of Weaseltown would've been her first choice.

Just as the duke was beginning to form his sounds of disappointment, a devious plan began to sprout in Elsa's mind, and somehow she couldn't stop herself from carrying it out.

"...But my sister does."

Anna giggled, thinking it a joke, but her smile turned to shock when the duke grabbed her by the arm, pulling her over to the dance floor.

"Oh, I don't think s-"

Her protest trailed off as she was whisked away, and Elsa smiled at the sight of her hand reaching out, as if begging for a savior.

"Sorry," Elsa whispered, the guilty-yet-satisfied smile still on her lips, and in her sister's absence, the joy in her heart dulled down to calm complacence.

Elsa couldn't entirely explain why she was so incredibly lighthearted today, but she knew for certain that it had something to do with the coronation. Or, more importantly, about the fact that it was over.

She had spent _months, _maybe even _years_, worrying about that one specific ceremony, and now it was over, and she had gotten through it with no problems at all. Sure, it had been a close call-the scepter in her hand beginning to crust over with ice in front of them all-but she had thrust it back into the pillow just in time, and no one had even noticed it. Now, knowing that her people could accept her as a completely normal, completely safe queen, it was as if a giant weight had been lifted from her heart, and ever step she took she was practically walking on air. Sure, the following hours of greeting guests had been plenty repetitive and boring for the smalltalk-hating queen, but that was more than made up for by the flush of relief spreading thickly through her soul. The hard part was over. It would only get easier from here.

An expression of uncharacteristic warmth on her face, Elsa giggled as Anna was bowed back in her dance with the duke, her sisterly glare as precious as a painting. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better between her and Anna from now on. Since the years of her parents' death, Elsa _had _been perfecting her composure, and as long as she kept her gloves on at all time, she didn't see a reason why Anna and her couldn't share a giggle or two now or then. It wasn't what father wanted, she knew-he'd call it an unnecessary risk, Anna might even try to hug her if they got too close-but Elsa felt like she could handle it. After all, if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was push people away. If Anna got dangerously clingy, Elsa could deal with it. And in the meanwhile... she might have just found the first person in years who would treat her like a normal person. Didn't Elsa deserve to be happy, too?

After a good few minutes, Anna trudged on back from the dance, breathing heavily and sticky from sweat... though not her own. For a moment, Elsa and Anna bantered about the duke, gossiping like the teenage girls they were inside, and both their hearts swelled from the warmth of it. When Anna muttered the next sentence between her lips, Elsa had already seen it coming a mile away.

"I wish it could be like this all the time."

Her eyes were so wide when she said that. So hopeful and inspired and young. And, for a moment, that youth was infectious. Elsa felt it spread through her, too. She felt herself becoming a little girl, again. She was seven, and Anna was her best friend, and the world was somehow so much brighter.

"Me too."

Oh, but she didn't mean the party. She didn't mean the people with their pointless dancing and their extravagant costumes. She didn't mean the elaborate feasts and the mouthwatering chocolate (though, that was definitely a plus). She didn't even mean the freedom from being out of her room, for once, and into the lovely world around her. She meant being with Anna, her little sister, and for the first time in a forever, feeling connected to the only being left in the world that she really, truly loved. That she would do anything for.

Looking back years later, Elsa admitted that it must have been strange to look at her at that moment, especially for poor, confused little Anna. One second, a smile of love and warmth was spread across Elsa's queenly face. The next, it had faltered for no apparent reason whatsoever, and everything had broken. Like a shattered mirror, a shattered life. Quickly, Elsa turned away, staring into Anna's eyes too painful for her to bear.

"But it can't."

Elsa couldn't forget her powers. Couldn't forget the promises she had made to her beloved, deceased parents. Couldn't forget that if Anna ever got hurt, as was bound to happen if they got too close, Elsa's heart would crumble into thousands of pieces. She was the only one the girl had left.

"But, why not? I mean-"

"It just CAN'T."

Her voice, sharp and cold as it always was, cut through Anna's hopeful pleading like a knife through butter, and the silence that followed was deafening. Anna's hurt radiated from her like the rays of the sun. Slowly, Elsa bundled her hands into a ball and drew them to her chest. _Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show._

"Excuse me for a minute."

Releasing a sigh of disgruntlement, Anna quickly turned her head, the tears just barely visible in the corners of her eyes. Elsa watched her walk away, disappearing into a crowd of chatty people, hiding her pain in the only way she knew how. The queen's heart broke at the sight. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she always ended up hurting her sister. It was as if fate itself demanded it...

It was hours before Elsa saw Anna's face again. And this time, she was not alone.

Elsa had been standing quite complacently near the corner, discussing politely with a pair of admiring subjects, when she had heard her name ring out far too loudly in the center of the room. The voice only capable of belonging to one person.

"ELSA! I mean... queen," Anna said as she approached, giving a hasty curtsey, "Me again. Umm... may I present Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."

Elsa looked to the man besides her sister, his hand interwoven in her own. He was quite a handsome fellow, she had to admit. Big, brown eyes, an impressive stature, and a chiseled jawbone that was near impossible to miss. Currently, he looked quite hopefully towards her, a nervous grin on his face that gave him the impression of someone undeniably trustworthy. But there was something about him... the queen couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was that feeling, again. That feeling swirling in the darkest pit of her stomach, warning her that something bad was about to happen. Something she couldn't stop.

"Your majesty," Hans began, his eyes flitting between Elsa and Anna, the little redhead giggling like a child at his side, "We would like... your blessing... for"

"Our marriage!" They chorused together. Anna's eyes were so wide and excited, it was like a little girl being promised her favorite ice cream cone.

"Marriage?" Surely, Elsa hadn't heard right. "I'm sorry, I'm confused."

"Well, we haven't worked out all the details ourselves," Anna began, looking off into the distance like she always did when her childish dreams got the best of her, "We'll need a few days to plan the ceremony, of course we'll have soup, roast, and ice-cream, and then...wait! Will we live here?"

"Here?" Elsa gasped, eyes widening in confusion. What was going on? Anna couldn't possibly be this foolish... could she?

"Absolutely!" Hans exclaimed, answering Anna's question with just as much positivity. Well, at least the two fit well together.

"Anna!" Elsa called, the panic rising up inside her chest. She needed to get her sister to see reason. Obviously, an entire childhood spent caged up in a castle had taken its toll. Anna had absolutely no appropriate social skills, no ideas on how 'love' really worked, no knowledge of anything real. If Elsa didn't show her the light, this was bound to lead to disaster. Nothing good could come of it.

"Oh, we can invite all twelve of your brothers to stay with us!"

"What?" Elsa's heart was pounding rapidly in her chest, her mind in full-blown fear mode. _Twelve_ men living in their castle? Their numerous children running around and causing havoc, getting involved in things-in people-they weren't supposed to? How would she ever _survive _that?

"No!" Elsa called, her protests drowned out by the chittering couple, "No, no, no, no, no-"

"Of course," Began Anna, her face glowing like the sun, "We have the rooms-"

"WAIT, slow down!"

This time, Elsa's voice was just loud enough to cut through the conversation, and Anna and her 'boy' turned to look at her, expressions of confusion marked upon their pretty faces.

"No one's brothers are staying here, no one is getting married."

Anna's face went completely white. Fear filled her eyes. It was almost painful to watch.

"Wait, what?"

"May I talk to you, please?" Elsa began, already formulating her reasoning in her head, "Alone?"

For a moment, Anna hesitated. Then a look of fiery determination crossed her face, and Elsa knew it couldn't be good. It rarely ever was. "

No," she said, her firmness still slightly unsure, "Whatever you have to say, you can say to both of us."

"Fine." She hadn't wanted it to be this public-for now a few of the nearest guests had started to glance over at them, clearly eavesdropping-but Anna had given her no choice. Elsa needed to be the voice of reason, and she needed to be it fast. Even if she came off cold. After all, it wasn't like that was anything new.

"You can't marry a man you just met."

Immediately, the feistiness in Anna returned, and she shot back the first thing on her mind. "You can if it's true love!"

"Anna," Elsa began, holding back her urge to sigh, "What do you know about true love?" She couldn't believe her sister was being this childish, this foolish. But, she supposed, it wasn't all her fault. Being separated from the outside world did have its drawbacks, and now all Anna knew about romance was from those silly princess fairytales in the library. She still had so much to learn, so much of the real world to see and understand.

"More than you!" Anna yelled, eyes glazed with a determination Elsa had never seen on from her before, "All you know is how to shut people out."

Anna couldn't possibly have understood how much that hurt. How much pain it had brought for the poor, young queen. Suddenly, she remembered all the efforts she had ever spent to keep Anna safe, and how each and every one of them was like a personal stab to the girl's heart. To her, she was always just a cruel, emotionless statue. That was all she was to everyone. Maybe not as bad as a monster... but how much better was it, really?

"You asked for my blessing," Elsa began, melted eyes hardening back to ice, "But my answer is no. So, if you will excuse me..." She turned quickly on her heels, trying to get away as quickly and quietly as she could manage. She was drowning in emotions, now. The best thing to do would be to get to a place of hiding, calm down a little. Nothing good ever happened to her when she allowed herself to feel.

"Your Majesty," the brown-eyed man called, reaching out a hand, "If I may ease your-"

"No, you may not," Elsa answered, her mind made up, "I think you should go. The party's over. Close the gates."

"What?" Anna's eyes widened in complete horror, and Elsa could just see the way her heart broke. If her's had not already been shattered beyond repair, it would've done the same. "Elsa," Anna called, "No, no, wait!"

Elsa should've seen it coming. Should've planned more accordingly, took more precautions to prevent it. And if only she had, then maybe things wouldn't have ended the way they did. But no... it was destiny that made her so aloof to what was to come. It was destiny. In one short, sheer act of desperation, Anna ran forward and attempted to grab Elsa by the hand. Maybe if she hadn't missed, hadn't yanked off her beautiful, hand-knit glove by mistake, everything could have turned out differently, too.

As soon as the fabric was ripped from her fingers, Elsa's world turned black and red. All sounds silence, all images blurred. All she could think about was her ice, her emotions, her father. And of every single person in that very room. Now, certainly, the two feuding sisters were the center of attention. Everyone was watching them. If Elsa let go... everyone would see.

"Give me my glove!" she yelled, panic overcoming her. _Conceal, don't feel_, she told herself, _don't let it show. _

"But, please, please!" Anna's voice was so hurt, so broken. It killed her. "I can't live like this anymore!"

_Neither can I._

Elsa's thought was so immediate, so completely devoid of hesitation, that for a moment, she was terrified. She couldn't live hiding in the shadows her entire life. Couldn't stand concealing and concealing and holding back every emotion she held inside. It was torture. She was going to explode.

Oh, but she didn't have a choice. She _had _to live like this. It was her job, her responsibility... but Anna? Anna was free. Anna did not have a queenly duty binding her to the land, Anna did not have a reputation to uphold and a legacy to carry on. Anna did not have ice powers. If she wanted to leave... she could go. Just go and never look back. Never.

Elsa thought back to the days when she had sat huddled in her bedroom, listening as her sister banged away at the wooden door and begged for her affection. She remembered how much she had wished back then, she had _ached_, for Anna to one day have a chance to leave the castle. The castle, she had realized, was not just a prison for her, but a prison for the both of them. Just in different ways. Elsa herself could never escape it... too much responsibility, too much danger... but Anna did not have such afflictions. If she so wanted to, she had every right just go out and explore the world. To make new friend and discover people who were actually allowed to show their love for her. Now, Elsa saw, Anna finally had this chance. And though it would include separation, ruining her chance at rekindling her relationship with her sister and tarnishing anything that they had already worked to build, Elsa would have to be a fool to destroy this opportunity. She had to encourage it. For her sister... the most innocent, beautiful being the world had ever seen.

Eyes broken, yet head held high and certain, Elsa then muttered the two words that she both dreaded, and loved with all her heart, "Then leave."

Elsa hadn't even looked to see as Anna's entire expression had crumbled. She'd simply turned away, walking as fast as she could towards the door. She had to get out of here, let Anna figure things out for herself, let her take the offer. She could marry the man if she wanted-though, Elsa had to admit, she still thought that idea was pretty foolish-and be as free as she could have ever imagined. That was all that Elsa wanted for her. That was all she could ever even want for herself.

Her plan was laid out perfectly in her head... if only Anna hadn't still been holding onto bundled fury. Fury she'd been holding onto for years, just letting it stir and stir and stir inside of her like a far too over-cooked pot of soup. And now, of all places, she had finally decided to let it out. Oh, Anna... could she have chosen a worse of times to explode than right in the middle of the kingdom's biggest party in twenty years? No... obviously not.

"What did I ever do to you!?"

The words were so horribly familiar, the angry tone in her voice ringing so many bells, that Elsa's heart stopped. She remembered the way the girl had yelled something similar to her so many years ago, only a few days after deciding to follow orders and become queen. It had hurt then. It hurt just as much now.

"Enough Anna," Elsa muttered, trying to focus herself. Trying to hold it all in.

"No, why?"

Elsa's heart fluttered with fear. She just knew what Anna was about to say. It would bring so many emotions, so much pain... she needed to be strong.

_Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't. feel. Conceal, don't feel._

"Why do you shut me out?" Anna continued, eyes wide and furious, "W-why do you shut the world out?"

Elsa's insides were burning with agony and frustration. Why couldn't Anna just get over this, already? Couldn't she tell when she wasn't wanted? Elsa just _couldn't_ be friends with her, why hadn't she just gotten that already? Why was she still holding onto this? _Didn't she understand that it hurt Elsa, too_?

The anger was taking her over, becoming her. Elsa had to get control, she had to stop this!

_Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel._

Anna had already struck her sister a deadly blow to the heart. But now, finally, she twisted the knife. In a moment, all was lost.

"What are you so afraid of?"

It didn't matter how hard Elsa tried to keep herself in. She couldn't stop it. It was inevitable.

"I said, ENOUGH!"

Elsa had turned, the fury too powerful, and had tried to shoe the girl away with a sweeping hand gesture. But she had forgotten that her glove was gone. Had forgotten just how much emotion was swimming through her system. Had forgotten just how unstable she really was. Suddenly, she felt tingling at the tips of her fingers, felt a burst of energy coming from her very core, and when she looked up to stare into the faces of her accusers, all she saw was a long line of icy spikes sticking up from the ground. All the people in the ballroom were standing behind them, their gasps and screams barely audible above Elsa's own thudding heart. _What had she done?_

Suddenly, Elsa's eyes met Anna's, and she saw confusion in them. Confusion, hurt, a dulling anger, and worst of all... _fear._

Her voice as soft and desperate as a flower, all the child could mutter was, "Elsa?"

It was too much. Her facade was broken. Now, after coming so far, after trying so incredibly hard, her life was about to crumble. Everything was over. She had failed. Failed her father, failed her kingdom, failed Anna, failed herself. Her worst fears had finally been realized.

Without another thought, Elsa turned and ran.

* * *

><p>She'd done it, this time. She'd really done it. In a split second, in one single foolish act of impulse, she had completely ruined her life. Demolished the work of twenty painful years of hiding, of fear, of depression. Everything she had lived for had been destroyed by her own hands. She had spent so, so many days trying to prevent this outburst... and yet, here it was. It had happened anyway. She'd always known it was impossible to prevent. She'd always known.<p>

The bitter wind stung Elsa's face, and though her nerve endings were unable to detect the chill it pulsated throughout her veins, the used-to-be queen shivered regardless. She had never been so cold, and that had nothing to do with the fact that she was in the middle of a icy, mountainous tundra. Her soul itself was frozen.

Her nightmare had finally become reality. Her life had been torn into two, jagged pieces, and they would never be put together again. And it was all... her...fault.

_The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,_ _not a footstep to be seen. _

Elsa glanced behind her, eyeing the land of snow that engulfed her shivering, pathetic form. Years ago, she would've given _anything_ to be here with a certain servant by her side. But now? Now, it was a sign that she had failed. It was not her freedom, but another prison.

_A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like, I'm the queen. _

This would be where she'd be spending the rest of her life, she knew at least that much by now. Sure, it was empty and quiet and completely barren, but that was the point. Here, she couldn't hurt anybody, and nobody could hurt her. Now that they knew-they all knew-she could never be with others of her kind again. From here on out, she'd live alone. Alone and hidden and isolated. But, really, she'd always lived like that. Now, at least, she didn't have her sister's voice to taunt her of the world that lay beyond. Now, at least, she could spend the rest of her life living in a soft, serene sort of peacefulness.

_The wind is howling like the swirling storm inside. Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried._

It was so incredibly stupid... blaming herself like this. There was nothing else she could have done, no other tactic she could have tried. She did _everything_ in her power to control herself, and it just didn't work. It just didn't work.

_Don't let them in, don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be._

Her father. Oh, he had tried, too. Tried so incredibly, incredibly hard to get her to be in control... yet, somehow, all his _trying_ ever included was her own suffering. Her own pain, her own seclusion, her own tears. She remembered the things he'd always used to say to her about her powers. About holding back and being strong and staying hidden. It was always _her_ job. _Her_ problem. He'd never helped, really. It had always been _her _responsibility to listen to him, to respect him, to do whatever he asked of her. Just like the good little princess she was.

_Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know._

Hiding, hiding, hiding. That was all she ever did, all she ever could do. Hiding was her profession. Her specialty. Just like Anna had said... all she knew how to do was shut people out. And it was _his_ fault, not hers. Sure, her father was dead, but did that mean she had to make him a hero? Cover up his flaws and replace them with her own? He had made his mistakes, but his imperfections were not her problem. His prejudice was not her responsibility. It never had been. Now, suddenly, she knew that clearer than anything.

_Well now they knooooow!_

The wind still whipping around her, hugging her with frost and snow and all that she loved, Elsa did the impossible. The unthinkable. The wonderful. She simply took her free hand, feeling unnaturally naked in the frosty air, and used it to grasp the soft fabric of her remaining glove. With one foul sweep, she had pulled it off, her fingers dancing in their freedom. Almost as if willing her forward, supporting her every thought and action, the wind picked up Elsa's last remaining relic of her parents, of her very past, and carried it away. She never found it again.

_Let it go! Let it go! Can't hold it back anymore!_

She'd never even been able to. It was hopeless, pointless, a complete waste of time. Like Benson had said, like she had known from the very bottom of her heart since the year she turned fourteen (and probably before that), her powers were a part of her that demanded to be felt, to be used, to be free. In fact, all of her demanded that. Freedom. It was worth everything to her.

Throwing out her hands, Elsa watched as sparks of snowflakes danced into the air, a masterpiece in all its simplicity. A smile bled onto her face as she created a little snowman, one full of so much joy and hope and memories, with one little twist of her fingers. Olaf. The snowman's name was Olaf.

_Let it go! Let it go! Turn away and slam the door!_

Her father, her mother, her sister. Her kingdom, her castle, her room. Even Benson. Everything, every little part of her past, was gone now. And suddenly, she found that she was no longer bothered by the idea of leaving it all behind. She didn't need it, anymore. She'd never needed it. All it had ever done was hold her back... so now she was going to shut it out forever.

This time, when she threw her hands back, a burst of ice flew from her fingers, creating a line smooth and tall into the sky. When she pulled her arms in, it all crumbled around her, and the falling particles of snow tickled her nose and cheeks.

_I don't care what they're going to say._

Oh, they could all call her a monster, if they wanted. A witch, a fool, a child, a coward. They could call her whatever they wanted. It didn't concern her, anymore. Nothing in that world ever would again. She wasn't the monster... _they_ were. It didn't matter if she was the only one who knew it. It was true. Benson was the only person in the entire world who had ever really understood this fact, who had actually tried to show her it. And he... well, he was dead. Killed by her father (who also happened to be dead). Elsa was alone now, but old enough to make her own choices. And though she had come back to him so often in her lifetime, she knew now that her father had been wrong all those years. Benson. He had known best.

A burst of snow, probably the biggest one she had ever created, was thrown ten meters to her right, then to her left, and she couldn't help the smile form as it all dissolved into the cool, crisp air. Her powers were so beautiful. How had she ever thought otherwise?

_Let the storm rage o__n! The cold never bothered me anyway._

A smile on her face-one that felt so incredibly unfamiliar, yet wonderfully real-Elsa grabbed the hem of her trailing cape and unclicked it from around her neck. Her heart swelled as she heard the wind, her only friend left, carry it away. This, this empty, barren mountain, was her new home. Who cared how alone she was? Who cared how isolated? Here, she could finally have the freedom she craved. Here, she could finally be happy.

_It's funny how some distance m__akes everything seem small. __And the fears that once controlled me c__an't get to me at all._

It was so stupid, the way that she had laid at her father's mercy for so many years. Let her fears torment her. Let her power be her cage. She had submitted when she could have gone fighting... Elsa promised herself, here and now, that she would never make that same mistake again.

Now, the girl was walking backwards, her hips moving almost musically as she attempted to keep herself walking firmly up the rising path. She gazed at the mountain behind her, and was relieved to see that not even the castle's highest towers were in sight from where she stood. She was far, far from home. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

_It's time to see what I can do, t__o test the limits and break through. __No right, no wrong, no rules for me... __I'm free!_

What more was there to say? She was going through with Benson's original plan, doing what he had known was best. She would use her powers, stretch them and bend them and work them to their full extent, and as she practiced, she'd grow stronger. More controlled. Soon, sooner than soon, she'd be just as powerful as fate had intended. Do in a year what her father had failed to accomplish in ten.

As Elsa thrust out her hand, a spark of magic flew from between her fingers, and where her powers landed, something formed. It was a staircase. A beautiful, beautiful staircase. A burst of warmth in her chest, Elsa placed her foot on the first step, watching as the crude snow was replaced by fine, polished ice.

_Let it go, let it go, I__ am one with the wind and sky! __Let it go, let it go, y__ou'll never see me cry! __Here I stand, a__nd here I'll stay. __Let the storm rage on!_

No one could stop her. Whatever weakness her old life had brought down upon her were gone, now. She was strong, she was powerful, she was endless. And she would prove it.

As she sprinted up the staircase, the smile seeming almost permanently stuck to her face, Elsa stuck out her hands and watched herself. Watched as she created, and refined, and polished, and perfected. Watched as she made something beautiful, made something wonderful, out of something that had once seemed so horrible. Finally, she had seen the light. Finally.

_My power flurries through the air into the ground. __My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around! _

The palace... Elsa couldn't believe it. She was creating one right here and now, just from her mere willpower, just from that spark of passion beginning to expand so ferociously in her chest. And its icy walls, its snow-flaked shaped floors, its crystalline ceilings... they were the most beautiful things the queen had ever seen, had ever even imagined. The palace was magnificent. And _she _had created it. No one else, just her. This, this thing...it was tall, and strong, and unbreakable. Just like her spirit. This palace was her future. And the future was all she had.

_And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast: __I'm never going back, t__he past is in the past!_

What more could she say? Goodbye, Arendelle!

As she finished her intricate, dangerously-sharp chandelier, there was merely one thing the queen could think of doing. Reaching to her head, she plucked off her crown, and in a simple little wrist-flick, tossed it to the floor. It didn't matter what happened to it. She didn't care if it broke, or shattered, or was carried away by the wind. All that mattered was that it was gone. Because she just didn't need it anymore.

_Let it go, let it go, a__nd I'll rise like the break of dawn. _  
><em>Let it go, let it go, t<em>_hat perfect girl is gone._

Elsa was no longer the child that had stood complacently in front of her murderous father so many years ago, her hands folded ever gently in her lap, her head quirked and raised to attention. She was no longer the bleeding soul that fought her every natural instinct, afraid only of herself, knowing she was destined to hurt those who loved her most. She didn't care what was expected of her anymore, what her parents had wanted. This was what _she _wanted. Who cared if she was being selfish? She could be selfish if that was what she wanted to be! Now, finally, it was her choice. No one else's.

And as she had thought that, as her entire world perspective had shifted to something so much brighter, so much more beautiful, so had she. Her hair, once tied up so intricately in the back of her head, came down like flowing water onto her shoulder. Finally, after much too long, it was back to the casual, loose braid she had much preferred as a child. And her dress... oh, her dress. Over the royal, tight fabric, Elsa stood still as thousands of icy crystals began to crawl themselves upon it, covering up her false identity with the person she was inside. The crystals were so shiny, sparkly, beautiful. She let them hide everything, even forced a long, snow-flake printed veil to replace her missing cape. She was the snow queen now... and the least she could do was look the part.

Her costume was so revealing, she realized as she placed her finishing touches, so incredibly scandalous. Her parents would've never approved. But oh, she didn't care! She simply didn't care. Slowly, the woman walked onto her palace's balcony, admiring her new kingdom.

_Here I stand, i__n the light of day! __Let the storm rage oooonnnnn! _  
><em>The cold never bothered me anyway.<em>

Turning her head, the image of the frozen tundra shrinking out of sight, Elsa's extravagant dress flicked her ankles, and her braid swung wild and free down by her neck. She had never felt so completely beautiful, before. Never felt like such a miracle, such a blessing. Now, letting the icy door slam closed behind her, she knew one thing and one thing only. Her life had changed completely. And, miraculously, it had changed for the better. Fate did indeed have mercy.

* * *

><p>She never dreamed she'd end up back here again. Never thought it possible. Oh, but destiny had it's tricks. And it had played one after another on her. Cruel and unforgiving, never relenting. Fate was anything but merciful. She was so foolish, falling for it again. She should've known. She could never be free.<p>

As the chains squeezed her wrists, burned her flesh with its harsh, metallic skin, Elsa tried to take a few deep breathes. In and out. In and out. In and out. She needed to calm down, she needed to think clearly, she needed to be smart, she needed to... she needed to... she needed to _get out of here. _

Hans... he'd told her he'd try. Said he'd see what he could do. Yet, somehow, she didn't trust that man. She just didn't. There was something wrong about him, or at least that was what her intuition was telling her. And, as she'd learned, her intuition was usually very, horrifyingly right.

After all those years, she was back. Back in the room with the snowflake on the door, with the furnace vents on either side, with the heavy metal cups to encompass her hands and drown out her magic. She remembered the key her father had handed to her when she was nine years old, the first time she had ever seen this place. She remembered feeling it in her hands, looking at it's strange shape, realizing that it resembled a dainty little snowflake, and then just... knowing. Knowing that this dungeon was her dungeon, this prison her prison. Her parents had built it for her, to hold her and hide her and trap her, for when she turned into a monster. And, well, she guessed they had been right. She had frozen her entire kingdom, possibly even beyond its boundaries, and had proven herself to be just as dangerous, just as deadly, as everyone had always assumed. She had only solidified their reasoning in her attempt to escape. There was simply no way she could win.

Sucking in a breath, just a short one, Elsa felt her power start to build inside her, and though impossible, she somehow both despised and relished it. As she looked down at her attire, it took all her might not to cringe. Now, the elaborate icy dress that had once fit her so beautifully, that had once shown off her freedom to the world, seemed so childish and silly. A mockery of all her queenly duties. What a joke, it all seemed now. _Her? Be free? _Hadn't she already learned better? Life was not a fairytale... that seemed to be a lesson the world was intent on teaching her time and time again. And she, being her foolish self, seemed to be intent on forgetting it. Oh, but who wouldn't be? It was such a cruel lesson, in such a cruel world. If only life could be as pleasant as Anna always seemed to think it was, then all her troubles would be gone.

Oh... Anna. That poor girl. Elsa had tried so hard to warn her, to make her leave her be, but the girl had been so intent on bringing her older sister home with her. She was so kindhearted, it would most surely be her downfall. Elsa wasn't exactly aware of what had happened back there in her ice castle...when her sister had confronted her with so much ignorance, but such innocent intentions... but she knew it hadn't been good. Her fear and out-right panic at hearing what she had done to Arendelle had been too much for her. Elsa's mind had become so blurry, so far away. All she could remember was Anna's babbling voice, so filled with cheer, filling her head and mocking her emptiness. Tormenting her with its purity, while all Elsa had were sins. She had screamed some things right back at the girl, begging her to leave before she broke, trying to convince her that all efforts were useless against the power Elsa stored inside, but it had been no use. Elsa had released her power, and Anna had fallen, and her large, blond 'friend' had come to support her. Then the giant snow-monster had appeared, a mere image of all Elsa's stored fear and aggression, and all else was lost.

Elsa knew something had happened to Anna... she could feel it. She wasn't sure what, exactly. But she knew there was something must utterly wrong. Maybe it was the giant snowman. She had gone too far with that, it had gotten out of control. If that evil creature had harmed Anna... oh, she didn't know what she would do. It would be all her fault, and somehow she just knew that her life would crumble into something even more pitiful than what it was now. She would have finally lost everything. There would be no more reason to live.

_Oh, Anna. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry. _

She should've been there for her. Should've opened the door when she came knocking, let her in to the deepest depths of her heart, given her the love she so craved. But it was too late, now. Far too late. The door that now stood at the end of her prison was heavy and metal and undoubtably locked. The time for opening doors was over.

_Mother, Father, forgive me as well. You were right all along... I am a monster. _

She had no arguments left to defend herself. She had turned into exactly the kind of person they had feared, had worked so tirelessly to prevent. Everything they had ever done to her was called for. If there was one thing she could change, however, it would be the way their meddling had confined Anna... but, no. It was too late for blame. It was nobody's fault but her own. Her own bloody fault. And now Arendelle, now Anna, would have to pay the price for her own mistakes.

Stretching her chains to their full extent, Elsa stood up and walked over to the window. Her eyes widened at the view of the now, fully-frozen fjord. So beautiful... yet so horrifying at the same time. She had done this, she had done this, she had done this. She... she... she... _had to escape._

The fear she felt was obviously far stronger than she realized. She knew this immediately, the moment the veins of frost had begun to climb up the walls behind her and in front of her and above. Around her glittering form, everything was turning from a dull gray to an icy blue. Everything was changing. Elsa didn't understand this... she'd never been able to do this as a child. What had changed?

Oh, why did she even ask? She knew the answer to that question... the room hadn't changed, _she _had. She had grown stronger and more powerful and more deadly. And now, finally, she'd be able to destroy this wretched place after all. Leave this filthy past behind her. She needed to get out of here, and she would if it was the last thing she ever did.

Mighty as she could, Elsa began to tug on her chains, feeling them rip at her skin. They were still hard and sturdy, yet somehow she just knew they were getting weaker. She could feel their insecurities. She would break them.

"Hurry up! She's dangerous, quickly!"

Elsa looked up from where she stood, seeing the outlines of men through the small (newly added) hatch on the door. The entrance guards must have felt the sudden drop of temperature, the sudden burst of chill, that now emanated from her room, from her very soul. She didn't care. They wouldn't get in until she was gone, she knew it. Elsa pulled faster, harder. She was almost out.

"It won't open!" came the gruff, heavy voice of another guard, "It's frozen shut!"

She only had moments to finish the job. Elsa just had to get out of here... she _had_ to. And by the looks of it, she would, too. The chill was suddenly becoming too much for the dingy little prison cell to take. The frosted bricks were cracking, expanding with the pressure. The ceiling was shaking and the walls were crumbling as if there was an earthquake. The very floor beneath her feet wavered like the wind. She was so, incredibly close... she could feel it. Taking a deep breathe, Elsa released her final burst of energy, giving it all she had. Half of it, she used to pull with all her might on the chains. The other, she used to release a blast of ice so cold it could've frozen ten men on contact. Combined, somehow, these powers seemed to be enough. The wall from which the door stood collapsed on the spot, and four heavily armed guards broke their way into the room. But they were too late. The chains had broken, lying cold and frozen on the ground. A gigantic hole stood where the glowing window had once given light, and through it, Elsa could just barely be seen running off into the distance. The cold and frost danced around her, as if celebrating her return. She ignored it.

Elsa had no plan, had no idea, had no future. All she knew was that she couldn't deal with this anymore. If she didn't get out of here now, didn't manage to calm her fizzing nerves, it was undoubtable that she was going to end up hurting somebody. She needed to run away.

Run away from her prison. Run away from her past. Run away from the truth.

She'd learn the error of her ways soon enough.

* * *

><p>"Elsa! You can't run from this!"<p>

The wind roared so loudly, the snow flying so thick and fast in the air, that for a moment, Elsa could barely hear him. She turned quickly on her heels, shielding her eyes from the ice, and sure enough, there he was. His strong, masculine form wading through the storm, something so incredibly rash and powerful that not even in her wildest dreams, in her wildest nightmares, had she ever even imagined herself creating it. Hans, however, continued to trudge through the intrusion, a determined look on his face as he slowly yet effectively drew himself towards her. She must have been wrong about him. There was not an evil bone in his body. He only wanted to help her.

"Take care of my sister!" Elsa called back, trying to turn away. She wouldn't stay here, she had already made up her mind about that, but at least she knew that her sweet little Anna was in good hands. Hands that would love her and care for her and help her grow in every way imaginable, just like Elsa had always wished she could. Now, there would be less worry following her hasty departure. Anna would be fine. Or, at least, that was what she had thought.

"Your sister?" Hans asked suddenly, eyes growing wider despite the dangerous flying particles. Something about his saddened tone gnawed a pit of fear into Elsa's stomach, and she silently gulped to herself. What had happened to Anna? Hadn't she come home yet?

"She returned from the mountains weak and cold," Hans continued, his wide eyes boring into her very soul, "She said that you froze her heart."

_Froze her heart. _What did that even mean? How was it possible? That couldn't happen... right? Suddenly, Elsa began to recall the things that the trolls had told her when she was just a little girl, Anna's cold and unconscious body lying stiff in her parents' arms.

_"You were lucky it wasn't the heart. The heart cannot be so easily swayed." _

Had she... done it? Had she really just done exactly what had started this entire mess to begin with, exactly what she had spent years and years trying to prevent? No, it couldn't be... but it had to. She remembered the way Anna had fallen to the floor without warning in her eye castle, clutching her chest, looking so weak and hurt and tired. That was why. Elsa had struck her, and she hadn't even known it. She hadn't even recognized her ultimate sin when it had been committed.

"No," the girl whispered, her voice drowned out by the storm. She knew it was the truth, yet she simply couldn't believe it. The very thought was like a stab to the heart. Denial, it seemed, was a far less painful option.

"I tried to save her," Hans went on, desperation leaking from every crevice of his body, "But it was too late. Her skin was ice, her hair turned white."

What? He had _tried_ to save her? Where was he going with this!? What was happening!?

Oh, she was only kidding herself. She knew exactly what he was about to say next. Knew exactly the crime she had just committed. But, still, it felt like only a dream. Only a nightmare. Hearing it out loud, breaking out into the crisp, clean air, that would make it real. Too real. Suddenly, the wind around the two roared louder, the world itself almost screaming from the pain. But it was no use. Han's next words cut through to her like a knife through flesh. And it created a scar that she knew would never heal. A wound that would prove deadly.

"Your sister is _dead_! Because of _you_!"

"No!"

It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true... it _was_. It was all true. All at once, everything stopped. The wind stopped howling and the snow stopped flying and the air began floating heavy and still around her. There was suddenly so much silence. Around her, all she could see was the glacial ground, the frozen wreckage of her once beautiful village. But none of that mattered, anymore. Because she had just killed the most beautiful, innocent being in the entire world, the one that had done everything in her ability to love and support and help her, and she was never coming back. Anna was never coming back.

Without another thought, without even realizing it, Elsa fell to her knees. They struck the ground hard, but the girl barely noticed. It was nothing compared to the explosion inside of her. The numbing emptiness already beginning to spread thick and heavy through her veins. If she could've caused herself enough physical pain that all her emotions were drowned out, she would've, but in the empty tundra surrounding her, it seemed she had no options. All she could do was lay on the ground and break for the final time. There would be no pulling back together after this. Not without Anna. Not without her only angel in a living hell.

Everything was so quiet around her. The swirling, screaming, pounding storm had migrated inside of her. No longer did it flick her hair and dance her dress and sting her cheeks. Now, only, it pushed itself into the crevices of her brain, it squeezed and confined her aching lungs, it rushed into her heart and crumbled it to pieces. She was such a pitiful creature, such a pitiful monster. A murderous, cowardice, brick of a fool. It was time for her to face the facts, and this time, to really face them. She could not run away, anymore. She never could've. Her problems were her's, and they would follow her wherever she went.

All her life, she had been running. First, running from her powers, keeping them hidden and locked away for as long as she could manage. Then, running from her father, trying so hard to get away from him, yet failing tremendously. Next, she had ran so far from the truth, convincing herself that she could handle her life, that she wasn't going to fall apart. Later, she had run from the people of her very kingdom, Anna included, as her secret had been blown. And now? Now, she was running again. Running the very chaos and wreckage she had caused, trying to escape it before she joined it. She never learned, never learned.

The running had to stop. The cowardice had to stop. Elsa was a monster, a murderer, and she had to face the consequences of her actions like the decent human being she knew she never could be. Finally, _finally_, she was going to stop running away. She would sit still and strong and take whatever fate wanted to throw her way. No matter how bad, she knew she deserved it. No killer deserved anything better.

It was then, at the mere peak of her despair, that the sound of the clink of a sword came traveling towards her ears. _The clink of a sword. _Elsa didn't even need to look behind her to know what was occurring. Hans had a sword, he was a law-bringing prince, and it was his job to bring justice to the murderer of the princess. And if that culprit just so happened to be the queen... well, he was proving now that that wouldn't stop him. He was going to kill her. And that was okay.

Death, in and of itself, was almost like an escape. An escape from the pain, an escape from the fear, an escape from the guilt, and the shame, and the horror. In Elsa's mind, she barely deserved such a relief, such a pleasure. But if that was the punishment that fate had deemed her worthy of, then so be it. She would sit there and bear it in silence. It was her duty, and she would not run from it. Not anymore.

Elsa kneeled down, her head aimed towards the ground and her long braid blocking her sight, as she felt Hans slowly approach her. She could practically _feel_ the blade he held so firmly in his hands, seconds away from plunging hastily into her gentle, delicate neck. Beheading. It seemed fitting, considering that it was the way Benson had died. Death had been his consequence for encouraging her to run away, and now it would be hers for every dreaming of such a preposterous idea. The only difference was that she deserved it, and he didn't. He never did.

_I'll see you soon, Benson, _Elsa thought as the sword raised up, up, up above her head. _You too, Anna. I hope you can forgive me._

Taking a deep breathe, a hand resting gently on her face and a single painful tear sliding down her check, Elsa finally let her eyes slip to a close. Her last second on Earth, and somehow, _somehow_, she couldn't help but be relieved.

What was the point of denying it? She had been dead for years. Now, at least, she wouldn't have to feel its pain any longer.

The sound of whooshing filled the air as Hans had swung downwards, and in that single moment, Elsa tasted death. If only it had followed through.

_CRASH!_

First, there was the sound of shattering, like a mirror crashing into a thousand pieces. Then a boom, like an explosion of gasoline, and Elsa felt a whoosh of energy slide past her, pushing her braid as if it were dancing in a breeze. And finally, the sound of a soft, weak wind pushing out into the air, the undeniable sound of a final breathe of life. Elsa didn't understand what was happening. Where was the swing? The sword? The death? It wasn't supposed to happen this way! Slowly, the girl raised her head, and as she saw the sight that awaited her, her soul froze solid.

Hans was no longer there. Instead, he lay spread-eagled on the ground, knocked out cold. His sword was no longer raised above her, instead lying smashed and battered on the ground, a thousand shards of crumpled metal. In the place of her executioner stood something else. Or should she say _someone_. At least what used to be a someone.

Fear and despair pulsing through her veins, Elsa yelled out the first name on her mind and pushed herself up from the ground, skittering over to the front of the object. She knew who it looked like from the back... but she needed to be sure. She needed to _see, a_nd see she did. As she stood in front of it, her eyes glazed over with tears, she caught a full glimpse of what it was, and her already iced-soul cracked in two. Encased in frost, still and dead as a sculpture, was her one and only little sister. Anna. Anna was frozen.

"Oh, Anna! No, no..."

Elsa reached out her hands, moving them to the girl's gentle face. She was completely stuck in a single, brave pose, one arm outstretched to defend against the blow, the other held behind her to protect the woman that had previously laid so cold and unmoving on the ground. The most prominent part of her, her face, was just as cold and frozen as the rest of her body, her beautiful skin turned to blue, an expression of pain and worry stretched across it. So, Elsa _hadn't_ killed Anna before. Hans had been lying. But, now... now, it hardly seemed to matter. Anna was just as dead as she would've been, and it was just as much of Elsa's fault. She was still a murderer.

The tears now filling up her eyes, blurring her vision so much so that Anna looked like nothing more than a giant block of ice, Elsa let out a whimper of pain and threw herself upon the girl, finally letting the tears escape their internal prisons. The pain... it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Beauty, innocence, purity, love. All had been destroyed, by her very own hand. Every good feeling she had ever experienced was burned to a crisp in her searing mind, and it seemed that all she could remember was the pain, and the guilt, and the shame. Anna... she had not deserved to die. She had deserved it least of anyone. This only proved that everything beautiful in the world, everything that embodied the natural wonders of the universe, was destined to be destroyed. And everything broken in this world, everything dark and evil and corrupted like herself, was destined to be the destroyer. It was so ironic. The innocent doe sacrificing herself to save the life of the vicious, ravenous predator. Elsa was not blinded to the bitter humor in the situation.

Oh, but nothing mattered anymore. The world, as cruel as it was, did not deserve someone as pure hearted as Anna. Nobody did, especially not her.

"Anna?"

As the Elsa sobbed onto the statue, she sensed the presence of other beings, but did not even consider raising her head. It didn't matter who was there, who would mourn the girl, who had even loved her to begin with. All that mattered was that she was gone... simply _gone_... and it was all Elsa's fault.

_Forgive me, Anna. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, please._

Why was she even trying? Anna couldn't forgive her even if she wanted to... Anna was dead.

_I love you, Anna, more than I can ever say. You mean the world to me. I'm so sorry I shut you out, I thought I was protecting you. I was so wrong._

What did it even matter what she said? She knew Anna couldn't hear her. She would never hear again.

_It's not fair. I should've been the one to die, not you. I deserved it, I deserved all of it. You were so beautiful, so pure. _

Why did the world have to take her?

_Please... just come back. _

She knew it was hopeless. Knew it was stupid and childish and dumb. But she simply couldn't help herself. The tears ran down her face, the gasps flew from her lips. Her entire life may had crumbled, but Anna's had ended completely. It just wasn't fair. But then again... who ever said life was fair? Certainly, not her parents. Certainly not Benson. Certainly not herself. It was all those fantasy books she used to read as a child. Fairytales with those princes and princesses and cliche, happy endings. They had lied to her. They had lied to everyone. Anna was dead, and from now on Elsa was completely, one-hundred percent sure that she would never have a happy ending. Not without Anna. Never without Anna.

And it had been then that it had happened. It the depths of her despair, in the deepest, darkest hole of her heart, that the miracle had finally decided to make itself known. From then on, Elsa was sure she could never be unhappy again. After scraping the bottom of the barrel, everywhere else she tread seemed like a dream in comparison.

It had started out with just a small, simple change of feeling. One moment, Anna's skin had been hard and smooth, a criss-crossing of snow and ice. The next, something had started to spread though it. The skin became softer, more textured, and Elsa was sure that had she been able to feel temperature, she would've been aware when it gained quite a bit of warmth. But she had paid it no attention, at first. She didn't want to get her hopes up for nothing.

But then the breathing had started, steady and sweet and mild, and as the girl's limbs began to move, Elsa became well aware that what she was holding was no longer just a block of ice. It was... it was... a human being. And an _alive_ one.

She had looked up, and really, that was all she could remember. Seeing Anna's sweet, healthy, un-frozen face. Staring directly into those wide, perfect, seriously-confused eyes. Holding that warm, breathing, life-filled body next to her own. And before she could even question it, before she could even comprehend what was happening, a smile had bloomed across her own face, and she had felt the warmest feeling she had ever experienced in her lifetime. The warmest feeling. She didn't care if it all happened to be a dream, a cruel trick played by her mind. She just wanted to hold Anna one last time.

"Anna!" she had exclaimed, and this time far more strongly, she had thrown herself into the girl's soft arms, her head pressed gently into the curved space of her shoulder. Anna must have been so confused, so unaware of what had just happened, but she did not question. She simply hugged back, so willing to accept the unfamiliar affection, and as the two had embraced, Elsa was only aware of a single thought.

Anna was alive. She didn't know why, she didn't know how, but she was alive. And from now on, Elsa's life would be a wonderful, beautiful thing, so long as the girl was at her side. It didn't matter what was in her past, it didn't matter the pain and the heartbreak and the guilt she had had to go through so many years ago. All she had was her future. And here, standing in the form of a cute little red-head, Elsa's future had never been so sure and bright. So long as Anna was alive, so was her soul. So long as Anna was alive, she was as free as she could ever dream.

And as the two had spoken, as Elsa's love for her sister had thawed the entire kingdom, bringing Arendelle back to it's former glory, Elsa only knew one thing and one thing only.

Fairytales did exist. And she, for the first time in forever, had finally found herself living in one.

* * *

><p><strong>Ok... that was it! Next chapter will be sort-of the conclusion of the main fanfic plot, but not the actual end of the fanfic. You'll see... I'll explain it after I post it. I'm just not ready to give up on this fanfic yet XD. I have too many more ideas. <strong>


	10. The Dream

**Hey everybody! So, I know my updates really haven't been on schedule lately, but that's only because I've had a few REALLY busy weeks, and it's been really hard for me to handle. Luckily, I think that's all over with now, so I'll be able to post my next (and last) few updates in a more regular pattern.**

**This chapter is a little strange, I admit, but that's mostly because half of it is just a dream Elsa is having. Dreams aren't supposed to make a lot of logical sense, so I made it a little weird on purpose. I hope you like it. I'm a little nervous about this chapter, to be honest. I just really hope you all like it.**

* * *

><p>Every moment of Elsa's life felt like borrowed time.<p>

She knew—knew from the very depth of her heart and soul—that she should've died that day. Should've died lying on the icy, stiff ground of her kingdom, her glittering gown hugging her as she kneeled into submission. Should've died with that monster-of-a-man standing just above her, her life eroding away at the very moment his cool blade stuck into the paleness of her neck. It was destiny, she had thought. It was her destiny to die. Hans should've killed her.

And if it wasn't for Anna, for that manifestation of all that was good and pure and just in the world, he probably would have, too. And instead of being here, alive and healthy and happy, she would've been just another dead girl in the ground, lost and forgotten like the trash she used to think she was. With that on her mind, it was almost as if every second Ella spent still on earth was a second that did not belong to her. Seconds that were gifts, fancy little prizes, from the land beyond. She didn't have any idea why she deserved such wonderful presents, really, but she couldn't complain. Her near-death experience had made her time sacred for her, and the appreciation she felt for her new life was astounding.

She was alive, and Anna was alive, and the world was alive. And that was enough to keep her going throughout the day.

Being queen, Elsa found, was pretty much exactly how she expected it to be. Signing documents, and writing letters, and a whole lot of hand shaking with random kings and queens she didn't really care a great deal for. She'd figured her first few years of ruling would be the most social-intensive of her reign, considering she still had a lot of mess to clean up after the whole "freezing Arendelle" incident, but she'd had no idea how right she'd be. Apparently, the 'Great Freeze,' as some were now calling it, had spread to a couple of Arendelle's neighboring kingdoms, as well. And none of them seemed very happy about the damage...though, that was to be expected.

What _did_ surprised Elsa, however, was the amount of awe, rather than fear, that her powers seemed to inspire. As a child, she'd always assumed that if the world ever caught of mere glimpse of what she was capable of, they would be absolutely terrified of her. Or, at the very least, majorly distrusting. What Elsa could do was, admittedly, unnatural. Odd and weird and dangerous and threatening and all other words with negative connotations. Some people, she figured, would be curious. But most would call her a monster. That was what she'd always thought. If anyway ever found out, they'd all call her a monster.

But it hadn't worked out like that. Sure, when they first saw the real her, everyone had gone crazy. There had been screams and tears and bitter words thrown at her from all directions. But now that the shock had worn off, the utter chaos taken care of, everyone had gone all doe-eyed and excited at the mere mention of her name. Now that their world was no longer buried in ice, their children no longer in danger of freezing to death, it became almost entertainment for them.

"Queen Elsa, do the magic! Do the magic!" little boys and girls were constantly begging of her, practically on their knees from the way they pleaded. It reminded her almost eerily of little Anna, and always she'd end looking to their parents, unsure and afraid of harming the young ones. She was always just as equally surprised, however, to see the mothers and fathers looking just as excited as their offspring.

"Don't be rude," they'd tell their children with a short scolding, but a glint in their eyes, "What did we tell you about manners?"

And then the children would say, "_Please_, Queen Elsa. May we _please _see your magic?" And their parents would nod, looking so hopeful and excited, and the children would practically tremble with joy, and Elsa couldn't help but throw a few bursts of snowflakes into the air just to please them.

People actually liked her. It was so strange.

Still, Elsa found the constant admiring to be almost as tiring as the constant threats, and for the past month or so she'd been eager to jump into bed ever night at exactly 10:00 sharp. Maybe even 9:30 if she could get away from work long enough, though that was increasingly unlikely. Everyone's favorite game, it seemed, was throwing all their problems at their newest queen and seeing how long it took to bring her down.

One night, as the girl—now woman, the last months events had proved that—nestled up in her cushy, cozy, perhaps even too comfy bed, only one though struck her mind. Whatever happened, whatever event occurred next in her crazy life, she could handle it. She'd already lived through the worst fate could throw at her. From now on, everything would be a breeze.

As if to prove her correct, a second later, a soft, nervous knock began to ring out on Elsa's wooden bedroom door. At the time of night it currently was, she knew that it could be either one of two things. First, it was some terrible emergency that required her immediate attention. Or second, it was Anna.

Fortunately for her, it was the latter.

"Oh, umm… hi Elsa!" piped up the girl as the door was thrown open, rubbing her neck sheepishly, "Hi. I, um, wanted to ask you if I could, maybe—"

"You want to sleep in my room for the night?"

Elsa didn't know how she could tell that that was the question her sister was going to ask, but she just could. And she was willing and ready to oblige.

Slowly, relief flooding through her face, Anna nodded, and Elsa stepped aside to let her in.

"Anything wrong, Anna?" Elsa asked, taking in the girl's slightly disheveled appearance with intelligent eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing really. I-It doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't."

Elsa raised her eyebrows, a mix of disbelief and amusement drawn onto her face, and quickly Anna dropped her act. Far too quickly, actually. She'd never been one to keep secrets.

"I just… I felt kinda weird tonight. I got all scared, all of the sudden, that when I woke up tomorrow morning I'd go into your room and realize that… oh, I don't know. That it was all a dream or something. That I hadn't really saved you from Hans, and that he had killed you, and that I had had to watch as he did it. I don't really know why it's coming up now… that all happened a while ago… but I just couldn't push the feeling down. I don't know, it's stupid, sorry…"

"Don't apologize, Anna," Elsa interrupted, voice simpering, "I understand. You can sleep in here for the night, if it helps. " She, too, had had her share of nightmares about Anna's supposed death for many days after the incident. Sure, it may have occurred a month ago, but she couldn't really blame Anna for a delayed reaction., could she?

"Thank you," Anna began, a smile spreading her lips, "I'll sleep a lot better knowing you're right there next to me."

Elsa nodded, and soon she was setting up the bed, puffing up the pillows in the way she knew her sister liked them. She chose her own favorite and placed it gently on the ground below her. When she began making a little cot for herself out of an extra blanket, Anna finally got what she was doing, and she shook her head vigorously.

"Oh, no. I don't want you to sleep on the floor, Elsa!"

The woman shook her head, still not understanding. "Well, there's no way I'm letting _you_ sleep on the floor—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Anna's cheeks were going very pink now, her feeling of childlike embarrassment fresh on her face, "I wanted - if it's okay - to sleep in the bed _with _you."

Elsa's eyes widened in memory. When the two were little girls, Anna a mere five-year-old with a common hate for bedtime, she would often come into Elsa's room late at night, begging for some sort of playtime. Sometimes, if she were feeling especially mischievous, Elsa would fulfill her with some nice spurts of snow. Other times, however, Elsa would remind her of the importance of a good night's rest, and after a good long time of arguing, they would agree that so long as Anna promised to keep still and quiet, she could spend the night in Elsa's bed instead of all alone in her own. And so, on those lovely nights, Elsa fell asleep with the sound of Anna's soft, steady breathing intermingling with her own, the girl curled up in her arms and her head resting gently on her chest. Admittedly, it had been a bit hard to breathe with so little space, but she'd never minded. Those were the moments, Elsa thought, that she missed the most.

"Oh," Elsa began, not really knowing what to say, "You won't be very warm. You know how much colder my skin has gotten since then."

Anna shrugged, a grin marking her face. "It's not as bad as you think. You're not bitter cold, your skin is just cool. Like, in a refreshing way, especially in the summer. My room is too hot, anyway."

As Elsa rolled her eyes she tried hard to contain her amused smile. That was the _second_ reason Anna had wanted to sleep in her room.

After some thought, Elsa finally nodded slowly, and a huge smile spread across Anna's face as she squealed in delight.

"Yay! Sleepover!"

"Shush," Elsa teased, "You know the rules."

Slowly, she positioned herself comfortably in her bed, feeling as Anna slowly slid herself next to her.

"Goodnight," whispered the girl as Elsa blew out the last candle in the room, next to the bed stand.

"Goodnight," Elsa replied warmly.

"I love you."

"Love you, too. Now go to sleep."

From her complacent state of mind as she slowly drifted out of consciousness—the pressure of her sister's arm giving her a strange sense of comfort—to the fact that she hadn't had one in weeks now, few would expect tonight to be the night that Elsa had the nightmare that blew all her other's out of the water. Though, as the woman had learned long ago, fate was rarely ever content with predictability.

* * *

><p>One moment, Queen Elsa of Arendelle lay quite sleepily in her silky blue nightgown, eyes closed peacefully and breathing slow and repeated. The next, she was standing alone in a land of ice and snow. And no longer was she Queen Elsa. No longer.<p>

The first thing Elsa noticed was the wind. In fact, it was practically the only thing she noticed. It was wild and loose and ferocious all around her, twirling her braid and tugging her dress and obscuring her vision in all it's unconfined furry. Flecked inside it, as scattered as stars in the sky, were thousands upon thousands of tiny, little snowflakes. Elsa loved snowflakes, she'd always had. She remembered reading once that each one of them has a unique structure, no two being exactly alike. As they danced around her tiny form like children in the brink of summer, this fact only made them more alluring to her. More fascinating and precious and beautiful. But, at this moment, not even _they_ could fill her with joy.

For a while, Elsa had no idea why she felt so incredibly terrified, all she knew was that she did. She felt herself stumble around and around in her blindness, her icy heels cracking the brittle ground beneath her feet, and she hugged herself in hopes of containing her fleeting warmth. Warmth... she'd never felt warmth before, much less had the ability to lose it. That should've been her first clue that this was all an illusion created by a sleep-craving brain, but at the moment, she was suspiciously accepting. She did not question anything. All she knew was her wanting, her _needing_, to run. To run.

Not too uncommon in nightmares, she found that instead of having definite boundaries, with a clearly defined beginning and end, her icy storm seemed to be an endless, volatile whirlpool. The more she trudged, the deeper she seemed to be trapping herself, and the more the wind whirled and screamed around her. It was torture. The ground, icy and barren as it was, seemed to stretch for miles and miles on end, growing two meters for every one meter she walked forward. It was hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. She'd never get out, she'd never escape. She'd be stuck in this freezing hell-hole for the rest of her miserable existence, and it was all because of what she could do. No... of what she _was._

"Elsa... what have you done?"

Of all the things it could've been, it was _his _voice that shocked her out of her painful trance. She hadn't heard his approach, could barely even see him through all the blurred snow, but there was no doubt in her mind who it was. Not a doubt in the world.

"Father? Father, where are you?"

Her voice sounded so fearful and frightened and young... far too young to be her own. Elsa looked down upon herself—her dream allowing a nonrealistic birds-eye-view of the situation—and realized with a spring of fear in the pit of her stomach that she was no longer a young-adult draped fetchingly in a dress made of ice. Instead, she was a mere fourteen-year-old girl shivering madly against the horror of the situation. Her dream-self didn't understand the shock her real-self felt at this realization. Her dream-self had never grown up, had never escaped from imprisonment, had never been healed by childhood wounds. It had always been a fourteen-year-old girl. A very, very bad fourteen-year-old girl. Very bad.

"Elsa!"

Father bellowed, his voice loud and clear and haughty, and suddenly, as he stepped forward, he came fully into view. The snow was still swirling viscously all around him, but now it seemed to be avoiding his body by a clear three-inch radius. He was practically outlined, haloed, by the very white in the air. He had never looked so perfect. Never looked so unexplainably wonderful.

"S-stay away from me!" Elsa screamed suddenly, the pale-blue, childhood dress she wore flowing around her like a rushing stream, "Please. I don't want to hurt you."

It came back to her, a little. The memories. She still couldn't exactly remember the horrible crime she had committed to get herself into this situation, but she could recall that she was dangerous, and a monster, and was most certainly going to hurt everyone within a mile radius if she didn't get away as fast as she could. If she didn't escape.

"No, Elsa," Father said, his voice so low she should not have been able to hear it above the roar of the winds, "I-I can't. You're my daughter, my responsibility. I tried to control you, to keep you from turning into what I know you've become... but I've failed."

"_I _failed," Elsa corrected, slowly backing further and further away from the man in his royal red robes, "I'm sorry... but I have to go. Just let me go."

She tried to turn and run but found her feet stuck firmly to the ground. Something was holding her back. She didn't know what, but she both hated it and feared it with all of her being.

"Your mother and I did everything in our power," Father continued, acting as if he hadn't heard her, "But it was never enough. We should've known it was a lost cause from the very beginning... but we were blinded. Blinded by our love, and our fear, and our own shame. Nothing we did was ever enough."

"So let me _leave_," Elsa begged, lips simpering as she struggled hopelessly to move her legs, "Let me go, and I promise I'll never bother you again."

"No, Elsa. It's too late for that. It's always been too late."

"Why? _Please!"_

She was desperate now, but he didn't seem to care. He just kept speaking as if he couldn't even hear her.

"I was such a foolish man. Such a foolish man. I always knew what had to be done... but I was in such a deep state of denial. And now my worst fears have come true, and Arendelle is in ruins because of the very thing I failed to accomplish. I was so weak."

"Papa, please! Stop this talk!" Something about his voice was dangerous, almost ominous. She didn't like it at all. Something was going on, here.

"I knew it from the moment you first showed your powers, Elsa. I sensed evil in them, something no one else seemed to see. It was a curse sent from the Gods, a punishment for my own sins, and I was forced to watch in silence as it corrupted and twisted your innocent heart. You were once so pure... and now you are _this_."

"STOP IT! PLEASE!"

Elsa didn't know why it hurt so much—she didn't even know what heinous act Father was talking about, really—but each word stung like a dagger to the heart, and as she begged she could already feel the tears beginning to slide down her face. Her knees were shaking unbearably, but still she stood. Rooted to the ground like the deadest of flowers. Petals blackened with soot and disease. Stem wilted with lack of love.

"Elsa? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Slowly, tears blurring her the shining-blue of her eyes, Elsa shook her head.

"Then look. Look at the wreckage you have created! Look at the monstrosity you have become! Do you realize, now? Do you realize?"

And it didn't make any logical sense, but almost as if he himself could control the winter winds, the storm around them opened up like a treasure chest and flew higher into the sky at his words. It created a large, swirling, omniscient dome of snow and ice to incase the two, and finally in the clarity, Elsa could see the carnage that lay around her.

There were hundreds of them. Hundreds upon hundreds of fearful expressions, of motionless bodies, of blocks of cold transparency that lay scattered like pebbles on the bank of a moving stream. There were mothers wrapped in their warmest of clocks, dragging their lagging children by the hand as expressions of unexplainable panic stretched across their worn, wrinkled faces. Father's carrying little boys on their soldiers, swords held threateningly by their sides, but unable to fight against their bodyless enemy. Sons and daughters running around, looking so confused and scared and just the tiniest bit excited, not yet knowing their horrible fates. But oh, what they had felt didn't matter anymore. Because those were only remnants of what once had been. They no longer felt anything anymore. Elsa knew that for sure.

Because, as her Father was trying to show her, Elsa had just frozen the entire Kingdom of Arendelle. Bodies and warmth and happiness and joy and love... in one split second, in one mistake of the hand, Elsa had turned it all to ice. And there was no going back.

"N-no," the girl spluttered, eyes wide and broken and so incredibly scared, "No... I didn't do this. I didn't mean to do this. Oh God, no. Father, Father please. Forgive me."

"The time for forgiveness is over, Elsa," he began, eyes narrowed and cold with decision, "I love you more than I can say... but you've turned into everything that I've ever feared you'd become. And it's my job to end this."

Suddenly, out of what seemed like nowhere, two large bodies were at her father's side. They were big and heavy and gruff-looking, carrying swords slung over their shoulders, and it did not take Elsa long to recognize them. Samuel and Johnson. Elsa's assigned guards.

Father hadn't come to stop her. Hadn't come to warn her. Hadn't come to forgive her.

He'd come to kill her.

"Father," Elsa chocked, her voice no louder than a whisper, "_Why?_"

He didn't answer, just shook his head slowly. When he looked her in the eyes, they screamed his own reassurances for himself: _It's for the best, it's for the best, it's for the best._

But it wasn't. Not for Elsa, at least. She was going to die. She was still a little girl, and she was going to _die_.

Finally, after far too long, Father spoke. His voice sounded broken, but he kept himself strong.

"It's time to end this madness. Johnson, Samuel, begin the execution."

This was too much for her. Too much for her to take. Suddenly, replacing her drowning fear and suffocating guilt and pitiable self-hatred, a swirl of anger boiled and sloshed hotly in Elsa's stomach. She gritted her teeth as if trying to gnaw through bone, and when her eyes flashed menacingly, she knew her Father had seen. He tried to send his guards forward, to end her rebellion before it begun, but it was too late. Elsa was already one step ahead of him.

"Why them?" she asked, her voice unnaturally sharp and icy, laced in every sentence with copious amounts of sarcasm, "Why them? You go through all that trouble finding me, you search and search these cursed lands of ice and snow just to trap me here, and yet you don't even bother being the man to accept the glory? Come now, Father. Don't be so modest. Do it yourself."

At this, finding her feet no longer frozen to the ground - perhaps they had never been to begin with - Elsa began taking slow, dragging steps towards him, never letting her eyes wander from his own. She watched as those pools of warm chocolate widened in shock and confusion, and before he could react, she trapped him. The dome of ice and snow, the one that had whirred so perilously around all the ice sculptures in her kingdom, immediately began to shrink and shrink and shrink. It was wilder, now, fiercer, and Elsa watched as it began to consume and block everything but her own father from her view. The ice-villagers disappeared. Samuel and Johnson were sucked back into the madness. And there was her Father, all alone, a sword on his belt. They were domed in together, now. It was just the two of them.

"Elsa…" Father began, his teeth gritted hard, "What are you doing?"

"You want to kill me," she began, anger swirling hotly in her stomach, "Then do it. I admit it… I'm a monster. I deserve to die, so you may as well be the one to commit the act. But as you lay that blade down upon me, remember this, Father… you were the one who turned me into this. You were the one who hurt me, and corrupted me, and drove all innocence from my once fearless heart. This is your doing… not mine."

Father spat at her suggestion, eyes narrowing in hate, but she could see the self-doubt swimming in his heart.

"Don't be ridiculous," he thundered, "You've been this way since the beginning."

"Deny it all you want," she whispered, now so close that she could've hugged him, or attacked him, depending on which she preferred, "But know that doing this… murdering me… will not erase your sins. Will not take back your mistakes, will not restore honor to the shame of your existence. You'll only be making it worse for yourself. But if it's what you wish, Father, I will not disobey you."

Father looked taken aback at her words, but the fury was still quite evident in his eyes, and he was just about to open his mouth to say something, when…

"NO!"

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise. The voice—as high-pitched and fearful as it was—certainly did not belong to her Father. Certainly. Heart nearly stopped, the girl slowly turned on her heels, and saw something both incredibly surprising and completely expected. There was Anna—a mere twelve-year-old child—standing ten or so feet behind them in the dome, her froggy green nightgown whipping her ankles.

"Anna," Father began, "Stay out of this. It's for the best."

"NO!" the girl repeated, eyes wild with fear, "NO! I won't let you hurt her!"

She attempted to rush forward, to wrap her arms around her beloved older sister, but immediately found herself bound up. Mother, who had appeared out of nothing more than thin air, wrapped her arms around the frail girl, tears streaming down both of their beautiful faces.

"Anna," she breathed, voice no louder than a whisper, "We can't get involved in this. You must stay."

"No, no, no, I won't!" The girl was struggling furiously now, screaming and kicking and squirming with all the energy she could muster, but it seemed that in this particular dream Mother held an almost-unnatural amount of physical strength. She held Anna to her chest without even a single sign of weakness, and soon the girl was forced to try another tactic.

"Elsa!" Anna called, eyes now completely and utterly desperate, "Please! Don't do this!"

For a moment, Elsa felt a well of pity begin to surge in the pit of her heart, but she pushed it down. She _needed _to do this, it wasn't even an option anymore. She had to see whether or not her Father would actually kill her.

She understood that, since the day she had shown the spark of evil that lied within her, Father had done everything in his power to keep her hidden away, safe and trapped in his clutches. The one day she had begged him for her freedom, he had stood firm and stubborn, unable to let her go. Letting her go, she realized now, was his biggest fear. So today she would try again, and for the first and only time in her life, find out whether he loved her enough to release her, or feared her enough to kill her instead. To murder her rather than give her the freedom she so craved. Today she would find out, in complete and utter honesty, whether or not he actually loved her. She _had_ to do this.

"I'll all be alright," Elsa lied to her little sister as she screamed and cried on the ground, red hair a hurricane on the top of her head, "Please, Anna, just calm down. I'll all be alright."

Anna looked at her, eyes wide and pleading. She seemed to understand what was happening, and was completely and utterly appalled by it.

"You'll always be my hero," the redhead chocked to her sister, innocent eyes blurry with tears, "Even if you've lost your mind."

"I haven't lost my mind, Anna. I've found it."

And then, satisfied she made her point, the girl had stepped forward. And Father had looked at her with false anger. She could still see his doubt. The doubt that was her only hope.

Father did not say a single thing, but Elsa spoke as if he'd just told her the world.

"Go ahead, Father," she whispered, eyes never having felt so cold before, "I dare you. Because if you really are so coldhearted as to bring that blade upon your daughter's neck rather than let her be free, then I know that I would rather _die_ than live with the knowledge that I share even a drop of my own blood with a cold, cowardice, _fool _such as yourself."

Elsa fell to her knees and bowed at his feet in rebellious submission, and young-Anna shrieked behind her. Head aimed towards the ground, eyes shut firmly, Elsa whispered what she thought might be her final statement. She wanted to make it count.

"Do not doubt my words, Father. I will not harm you. My life is in your hands."

And then she was silent. And so was the world.

Finally, after far too long, the girl heard the familiar sliding sound as Father unsheathed his sword from his belt. She could practically feel the way he lifted it so far above his head, eyes cold and dead, heart blackened by his own stubbornness. For a moment—a horrible, horrible moment—Elsa's mind came to the realization that he was really going to do it. He had never loved her enough. It was just as bad as she had feared.

It was there, crouched like a brooding child on the ground, that Elsa felt a trickle of regret. Why? Why had she done this foolish thing? Did she think she was proving a point? Had she wished to die a martyr's death? She didn't know. Now, suddenly in the face of death, the prospect of knowing whether or not her Father loved her enough did not seem a sufficient reason. Not with Anna standing so close by. Who cared whether Father loved her or not when right next to her was all the unconditional love she could ever wish for? And the girl giving the love… she was so innocent, so pure. And about to watch her older sister be beheaded by her own father. What nightmares was Elsa about to give her? What kind of selfish person was she?

Oh, but too late. Too late to worry and regret and feel guilt. What's done was done. If Elsa died, then God only knows she deserved it.

But there was no harm in one more glance…

In a split second, trembling slightly in anticipation from the blade, Elsa turned her head just enough to free one eye, and looked at her Father standing beside her. She saw the sword raised so high above her head, his mouth so stern and grim, his eyes full of pain and horror. She let her gaze meet his, her icy eyes already melted to an aqua pool of swirling blue, and allowed herself on more moment of childhood. One more moment of pure love, pure admiration, pure joy. For a single second, she willed herself to forget the contempt she felt for the man above her, and remember that he was her father. He had raised her and protected her and loved her… even if never enough. But that was better than nothing.

But, strangely, Elsa saw something in her father's eyes change, after that. They softened, slightly. Their chill eroded away, replaced by that warmth she had so grown to love as a little girl. He must have seen the innocence flash across her face. He must have remembered, too. Remembered the days he had picked her up and swung her around and around and around without a care in the world. Remembered that he loved her. Suddenly, his blade faltered. Then fell to his side. And before Elsa knew it, he was sobbing on his knees.

"Oh, Elsa. Elsa, my dear. I'm so sorry. I've always been such a fool; so incredibly blind to my own faults. I've done it all wrong. Every choice I ever made for you, no matter how good intentioned, has harmed you in some way or another, and I can't even begin to express my regret for that. I'm so sorry, princess. I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

Elsa could not respond. She couldn't think of a single word to say, her throat just felt so dry and crumbled. Part of her wanted to scream at the man. Scream and scream at him that his apology was too little, too late. He had just been seconds away from slitting her throat, how on Earth could she just forgive him for that? And yet… another part of her, a part of her much stronger than she liked to admit, merely wanted to wrap her arms around the figure in front of her. Hold him tight and sob into his shoulder and tell him over and over and over again that she loved him with all her heart, she always had. For a moment, she reached out a hand to stroke his back in comfort, but quickly thought better of it. She withdrew her love, and in an endless swirl of indecisiveness, brought herself to her feet. The ground was icy below her, but she stood without a single loss of balance. She had long gotten used to standing on unstable ground.

"Good," she said, "I'm glad we got that out of the way." Then she slowly turned on the balls her feet and walked away. No destination in mind, really, she just walked away. And Father, and Mother, and Anna all sat and watched her go, each one with tears streaming down their beautiful faces.

She loved them all so much, she couldn't stand it. She simply couldn't stand it.

And it was over. There was finally, finally closure. Father loved her enough to set her free, and that was all she needed to know. That was all she ever needed to know. So even as she walked away from him, shoulders shaking as if she were the verge of falling apart, all she knew was the wash of sweet, sweet closure spreading through her chest. It was over. She wouldn't have to worry about her Father's love ever again. The past was finally behind her.

* * *

><p>She awoke a minute later to the gentle shaking of her sister's hand.<p>

"Elsa! Elsa, are you okay?"

Immediately, the woman's head shot up from her pillow, her eyes wide and fearful. Then she saw the person next to her, memories returned, and her heart slowed down to normal pace. Dream. _Dreeeaaammmm._ It had all been a dream.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine, Anna. I'm sorry… did I wake you?"

The girl nodded slowly, face still etched with concern.

"You were shaking in your sleep, Elsa. Your skin got _really _cold, and then you… did this."

Elsa looked down at what she slept on and flushed in shame. Her pillow was frozen solid, her blankets coated in multiple layers of snow. She had iced her bed.

"I'm so sorry, Anna. I knew this was a bad idea, maybe you should just—"

At the prospect of going back to her own room, Anna interrupted immediately, voice a little louder than necessary in the middle of the night.

"No! I mean... no, it's fine. Did you have a nightmare, Elsa? Do you want to talk about it?"

Elsa avoided her sister's gaze for a moment, before discretely nodding, expression firm and cold. Then, slowly, her face softened, and she looked Anna in the eyes.

"Yes, I had a nightmare. But it doesn't matter anymore, let's just get back to sleep."

"What was it about?"

"Anna, I really don't want to—"

"Was it about Hans? Or the storm? Or _me_?"

"Anna—"

"Come on… we're sisters! Sisters share secrets!"

"I know, but it's just—"

"Please, Elsa! I don't want to pry or anything, but… PLEASE TELL ME! DON'T SHUT ME OUT AGAIN! I REALLY, REALLY WANT TO KNOW!"

Elsa sighed into her hand, shaking her head slowly.

"_Please_," mused Anna once again, "You can tell me anything, you know that."

Elsa was about to deny her again, but something about the girl's last words sparked something in her heart, and before she could stop it, her lips had opened up to spill a little bit of her broken, damaged soul.

"It… was about Father."

This was obviously not the answer Anna had been expecting. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her lips went slightly agape.

"Dad? Why? What about him?"

Elsa just shook her head. "It's nothing, Anna. It's late, let's not talk about it now. We should try our best to sleep the rest of the night, and we can worry about all of this tomorrow."

Anna nodded slowly, "But you'll tell me eventually?"

Elsa looked at her sister silently, for a moment. She remembered what the girl had said to her in her dream, and felt a sensation of warmth spread throughout her as she processed the meaning.

"_You'll always be my hero, even if you've lost your mind." _

Sure, that little girl in the dream hadn't _actually _been Anna, but there was something about those words that told Elsa that, even if she'd never said any of them, Anna felt exactly that. The dream itself, actually, seemed almost startlingly real. Sure, her Father was dead… but it almost felt, for some strange reason, as if that man in her dream really _was _him. And it was that exact feeling that brought her so much closure this night. Her Father was given his final chance to control her, and yet he had let her go. And it didn't matter that it was all just a dream, because what she knew now was that it _wasn't _just a dream. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. Her Father really did love her, and that was enough. That was enough.

And Anna… Anna loved her more than anything. Elsa didn't need the dream as evidence, she had proved her love on more than enough occasions, too many times for her to even begin to doubt. Anna _deserved_ to know the truth—the truth about Father, and Mother, and Benson, and even herself—even if it ended up tarnishing her innocence. Because, as Elsa had come to understand when little Anna had watched Father descend upon her with a blade, innocence could not last forever. Sooner or later, the girl would have to at least become aware of some of the horrors in the world, and it wasn't in Elsa's power to deny her of this natural step in growing up. If Anna was going to hear the truth about her parents—which was inevitable, whether Elsa spilled her secrets or not—it might as well be from someone who loved her. Who would comfort her. Who would show her that even when people made bad choices, it didn't make them bad people. Who would help her to see that just because evil existed, it didn't mean that goodness wasn't just as powerful as it always was. That was a beautiful, horrible truth. And Anna deserved to know it.

"Of course, Anna. I'll tell you eventually, I promise."

"Tomorrow?" Anna asked, excitement building in her voice.

"We'll see."

That, of course, meant no. Not yet, she wasn't quite ready. But soon. One day soon, she'd tell Anna everything.

That seemed to be enough for her, and in an instant, Anna had plopped herself back down onto the now completely melted bed, dozing off in the snap of a finger.

Elsa knew now that only when that time came—when all her secrets were revealed and all her doors wide open—would she really, truly be free.

Freedom. It would come to her in only a matter of time.

It was all in a matter of time.

* * *

><p><strong>Believe it or not, the idea for this chapter actually came to me in a dream XD. Most of my dreams are really just a <strong>**mash of all this weird stuff that don't make any sense, but this specific one I had was amazing for me, so I just knew I had to include it SOMEWHERE in this fic. Originally, Elsa's father came to kill her instead of Hans after the events of frozen, Elsa begin fourteen for some reason, and they both said more-or-less the same things I wrote for you (I don't exactly remember, but I assume). I really liked the idea, especially as a conclusion for Elsa and her Father's relationship, but I knew it wouldn't really make any sense, considering by this point in the fanfic Elsa's father is dead and Elsa is an adult, so I decided making it a dream would be the best way to go.**

**I'm not really sure if I was successful in making it a good closure or not, but I hope I was. In my mind the dream was sort of a message from her dad (in the afterlife) saying that he realizes what a monster he has been all her life, and he's trying to show that he regrets it and really loves her despite all he's done to prove otherwise. Idk, really. I guess this entire chapter is open to interpretation.**

**I also wanted Elsa to make that big decision to tell Anna all the secrets in her life, since I think I'm going to make that plot the final chapter of my fanfic (not yet, though, I still have a few more in between). I haven't decided EXACTLY how I want that conversation to go yet, but I have a few ideas, and I figured I'd just lead up to it in here.**

**Well... I hope you liked it! Like I said, I had a crazy busy last few weeks (especially this weekend) so I really haven't had a lot of time to write. Hopefully this is good enough for all of you. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think! **


	11. The Sisters

**Hey everybody! Let me just tell you now: if you don't usually read these author's notes, read them now. I have an important announcement to make.**

**I wasn't originally going to post this chapter for this week... actually, I was planning on posting an entirely different one. It took place after the events of Frozen-maybe about a year or two-and was about Arendelle being attacked by some sort of evil magical creatures, and Elsa using her ice-powers to defend her kingdom. I liked it because I always kind of wanted Elsa to get her chance to be the hero. I love Frozen, but Anna is the hero in it, not Elsa. Anna is a wonderful character, of course, but there's something about Elsa that I really connect with, and I really just wanted to see her at her absolute best, where she could be the hero saving the day rather than the misunderstood villain or the '****damsel in distress' she was when Anna saved her. So... that's what that chapter was supposed to be about.**

**I was also planning on elaborating on Elsa's powers in it, describing why she can create actual living, thinking creatures with her ice. The thing is, though, the more I wrote, the more I realized that the story was too long to put in one chapter. So long, in fact, that I was thinking that I might actually have to make a sequel to include it. Now, just to make sure everybody knows about this, I'm going to write it very large so no one can skim past it without reading.****  
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**~I'M MAKING A SEQUEL! I'M MAKING A SEQUEL! I'M MAKING A SEQUEL! I'M MAKING A SEQUEL! SEQUEL SEQUEL SEQUEL SEQUEL SEQUEL~**

**Okay, so it probably won't be a full sequel (maybe only three or four chapters), and it might only reference to this fic a few times, but I think it's an interesting idea, so I'm leaning towards making it a few weeks after I'm finished with this one. What do you guys think? Please review and tell me if you want it or not, since I'm not totally sure yet.**

**Well, anyway, for this particular chapter, I sort of went back in time. Remember like a billion chapters ago, when I said that this fic might not go in chronological order? Well, FINALLY, that is becoming true. For the next few chapters before the final one (only two or three more, I think), I'm going to pick random moments in Elsa's childhood and just zoom in on them, adding things that I wanted to put originally, but couldn't because it didn't fit with my main story line. This chapter itself takes place when Elsa is seven years old and Anna is four. I wanted to show their friendship before the 'incident,' so that you guys can see exactly WHY Anna always loved Elsa so much, and the other way around, despite all she did to push her away. Well... you can start reading, now!**

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><p>It was just another one of those nice, pleasant Saturday mornings. Nothing odd or unusual about it in any way. The sky, cloudless as it always was, was tinged only slightly by the orange of the rising sun, the natural shade of blue behind it just beginning to show itself through. Floating within, a great ball of yellow glowed so bright that it chased away all surrounding darkness, slowly radiating off its immense heat as it rose higher and higher into the briskness of the air. This was a sight that could be seen quite clearly in a certain faraway kingdom many referred to as Arendelle... or it would have been, had there been someone awake to see it.<p>

In said kingdom—which just-so-happened to be the holder of a secret just beginning to bloom—was a single castle on a hill, one that included a large bedchamber crafted perfectly for two. The first child within it—one with blond-white hair and skin as pale as winter—slept peacefully on her bed that morning, resting her head gently on the palms of her hand. Another child—one who's hair was tinged with a fiery quality, and whose skin was sprinkled in an array of bright freckles—seemed to be up to something a tad less innocent.

"ELSA! Elsa, wake up! The sun is up. It's time to _play!"_

Opening her eyes just a crack—not much, but enough for a flood of blinding light to pore inside her brain, giving her a pounding headache—the seven-year-old girl groaned and pushed the smaller redheaded child away. She plopped to the floor like a rag doll, letting out a huff of childlike annoyance.

"Ugh, Anna… what time is it? It's so _early_, the sun hasn't even completely risen yet! Go back to bed."

"What? No! _Nooooo!_ I tried to play with you last night but you said no! And then you said...you told me...that you'd play with me in the morning. When the sun came up! Well now it's morning, and the sun's up, SO LET'S PLAY!"

Elsa groaned some more and tried to pull the pillow over her head, attempting unsuccessfully to snuff out the buzzing noise around her.

"Anna, it can't be morning yet. I bet this whole kingdom is still asleep... I thought you liked to sleep-in! What happened?"

The girl shrugged, pulling herself right back up onto the bed and bouncing up and down and up and down on the mattress, shaking Elsa around to the point where she had to grip tightly to her blankets to avoid falling and plummeting to the floor.

"I woke up a few hours ago and I couldn't even sleep at _all_. You wouldn't play with me, so I was just waiting for the sun to come up so you would come out of bed, like you promised. I _hate_ waiting, but now the sun came up, so let's play!"

At these words—a full-out criminal admission, the girl thought—Elsa was finally shocked enough to raise her head from her poofy white mattress, at least slightly.

"Anna! You've been awake all _night_? What have I told you about needing your sleep!?"

The tiny, four-year-old girl just shrugged and giggled. She shook her head with vigor, allowing her mess of red hair to flop around goofily.

"I don't like sleep! I like to play! So let's play!"

"But... aren't you tired?"

"No, LET'S PLAY!"

Elsa didn't know how it happened—she had promised herself last week that that would be the last time Anna managed to pull her from her much needed sleep—but before long, she was up and out of bed, dragging her tired feet around the room. Anna waited impatiently, bouncing wildly on the bed, as she brushed her teeth and changed in the bathroom, and then watched in admiration as the girl skillfully combed through her white locks, braiding her hair with precise and delicate fingers.

"My turn!" she called excitedly as soon as Elsa had finished, and though the older sister had rolled her eyes at the eagerness, she couldn't help the semi-amused smile that crossed her face without warning.

"Okay, Anna. Sit down then."

The girl did not hesitate to plop herself upon a cushioned, flower-embroidered stool—a ridiculous grin spread upon her face—and Elsa had to stifle at giggle at the cuteness of it all. Swiftly, she descended upon the girl with a wooden brush in hand, already quite used to routine.

"This might hurt a little," Elsa warned the girl as she took a look at the wild, reddened rats' nest that rested on top of her head. She never understood how Anna moved around enough in bed to make it that way, but she didn't understand a lot of things about Anna, so she just let it be.

"That's okay," said Anna, "I can take it."

Elsa raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"Yep!" exclaimed Anna with confidence, "I'm positive!"

Elsa spent the next fifteen minutes of her life trying to quiet the screams and yowls that repeatedly erupted from within her bedroom walls.

"Shhh, Anna, shhhh," Elsa pleaded after a time she considered far too long, setting down the brush gently on her favorite bedstand, "See? Your hair's all smooth now. See? Isn't that better?"

The little girl did not hesitate to run a hand through her now flattened, flowing hair, and a smile immediately touched her lips, as if she'd completely forgotten the quarter-of-an-hour of torture she'd just endured.

"It _is_ better!" she exclaimed, eye glinting, "Much better!"

"You know," teased Elsa, waggling a little finger at her, "You're going to have to learn how to do this _yourself_ eventually, right?"

"Can you put it in a braid, like yours?" she asked, purposely ignoring her sisters words. She smiled brightly, and her teeth gleamed like white stars in her mouth. That was surprising, considering she never brushed them.

Elsa considered for a moment, and then slowly shook her head. "Your hair isn't long enough for that… but don't worry. I think you look cuter with two pigtails, anyway."

The girl must have found this a satisfactory answer, for she only wiggled and squirmed a little bit as Elsa attempted to tie the dark ribbons around her hair, and before long the two were running out the door, Anna only just managing to throw on her cheery, green summer dress in time.

It was still pretty early by that time, so just in case they weren't allowed outside yet, Elsa made sure she and Anna snuck as quietly as possible down the wooden staircase. It was a hard job, considering the younger girl's nonstop chattering despite the constant warning of silence—wasn't a finger over the mouth practically a universal sign to be quiet?—but miraculously, they made it out the door without a major issue.

"Elsa, Elsa! Lift me up so I can climb the tree! Lift me up! I WANNA CLIMB THE TREE!"

Shaking her head amusedly at the bluntness of her statement, slight smirk painted across her face, Elsa positioned her hands on the crook of Anna's elbows, using all her strength to heave the girl up to the tree's first branch. This old oak was possibly the tallest one in Arendelle, and lucky for the princesses, it existed right in the castle gardens behind the house. Tall and strong and sturdy, it was Elsa's favorite place to just enjoy nature and be alone. It was also Anna's favorite place to be noisy and bug her.

"Don't slip." Elsa warned the younger girl as she slowly began to ascend the tree, but upon reflection of the statement, she just slowly shook her head. It didn't seem to matter _what _she said, because the girl would never hear it. Anna was lost in her own world climbing that tree, and probably wouldn't have been able to hear had a firework erupted besides her head. Still, her detachment from the universe seemed quite relaxing, actually, and Elsa would've had to be made out of stone not to follow. Five minutes later, she too was making her way up the branches, somehow loving the way it hardened her hands and scrapped her knees.

"Look at me! Look at me!" Anna called as she hung herself upside-down from a rather thick branch, holding her dress up so it didn't slip and reveal her soft belly, "Elsa, do you see?"

The girl looked for a moment, mildly impressed, and then allowed herself a mischievous smile. "You think that's cool?" Elsa taunted, suddenly very much in the mood for showing off, "Watch _this_!"

In an instant, Elsa was jumping from branch to branch up the tree, feeling very much like a primal monkey, yet loving it all the same. Every spot in her path in which the branch seemed too weak to grab—or just wasn't there to begin with—she just conjured up a substitute made of ice, and in nearly no time at all she had reached the top of the tree, little Anna gawking down below. Just to further show off, she created a large, icy star to place on the tip of the tree's bristly branches, creating her own little christmas in summer. That action in particular was met by a few good cheers from her younger sister.

"That… was… AWESOME!" she screamed, bouncing up and down on her branch after pulling herself right-side-up. "Do the magic _again! _Do it _again!"_

"Maybe later, Anna," Elsa replied, desperately trying to catch her breathe after than amazing spurt of energy, yet filled to the brim with an immense sort of pride, "I promise, later."

Anna nodded, and for the next fifteen minutes, the two girls played and jumped and laughed together, lost in their own little world of imagination. It was nice and rich and beautiful, and for a moment, Elsa doubted that there had ever been a world as beautiful as the one she and her sister shared inside their spinning heads, inside their giggling lungs, inside their beating hearts. It was too magical for words.

Finally, when the giggling died down and the imagination trickled dry, Anna decided to speak out again and start up a new conversation.

"Papa told me not to climb trees, did you know that? He said it wasn't very princess-like."

"Aww, don't listen to him," Elsa replied with a short wave of the hand, currently in the middle of hanging upside-down herself, "He just doesn't get it."

"Doesn't get _what?" _Anna asked, confused and curious both at the same time, "I thought he knew everything!"

"He doesn't know. Nobody knows but us."

"Doesn't know _what, _Elsa?"

Anna realized suddenly that her question was useless. Now, it seemed, Elsa had gotten herself lost in her own little world. She kept rambling on, speaking words to herself that Anna didn't exactly understand, but the younger girl felt honored to hear them, regardless.

"He thinks—they all think—that princesses are supposed to be all good, and neat, and pretty, and everything. They all think that we have to be nice and perfect all the time, every single moment of the day—as if that's even possible. They all think we shouldn't do fun stuff like all the other kids, just because of where we were born. But they're wrong, Anna. You should remember that they're wrong."

Anna just blinked at her, unsure of who 'they' were supposed to be and completely overwhelmed by the sudden enormity of that statement. Met by silence, Elsa continued, unfazed.

"We're princesses, Anna. But here we are, anyway. Sneaking out and climbing trees and getting dirty and just being kids, you know? Everybody says that princesses don't do that sort of stuff—that they aren't supposed to—but how should they know? They're not the princesses… _we _are! And this is what we do. We laugh and we play and we have fun, even if it's not very proper. Whose to say what we do and don't do besides us? They all don't get it. We know better."

"We know better?" Anna repeated, eyes still a bit confused, but a thousand times more excited, "We do?"

"Sure we do! We know a lot better! Anna… when we grow older, a lot of people are gonna start telling us what we can and can't do. But we just can't listen to them. They'll complain that we aren't graceful enough, that we don't wear fancy enough dresses, or talk and act in polite enough ways, but that's alright. None of that 'proper lady' stuff that Mom tells us about is important, anyway. What's important is being a good person. Being good, and kind, and smart, and strong. That's what's really important, and that's what we'll know even when nobody else does. Remember that, Anna."

Anna nodded vigorously in agreement, taken aback by her sudden words of wisdom. She closed her eyes and tried to file them into her memory forever, just to make sure she'd really, truly remember.

"Wow, Elsa," she finally exclaimed, eyes wide and eager, admiration bubbling up inside her, "You're so smart!"

At this, Elsa flashed her a grin, pulling herself right-side-up-again.

"I like to think so. We both are. And that's the stuff that's most important. One day when I'm queen—"

"And I'm your right hand!" chimed in Anna, not hesitating to remind her of that.

"Yeah, we'll be the perfect team. The two of us… we'll travel the world, and go on adventures, and show the world just what two princesses can really do! Everyone thinks that all we're capable of is dancing, and drinking tea, and being all graceful and stuff, but—"

"We know better!"

"Exactly, Anna! We know better!"

And with that little speech, with those prideful bursts of freedom-craving words, it appeared that tree climbing time was over. Satisfied with the day's exercise, the two girls wiggled their way down to the grassy patch of ground beneath them, and were soon scurrying happily off to the market place.

The town had long been Anna's most favorite place to visit—with all the interesting people selling interesting things in their interesting stores—and Elsa found it was quite the task keeping the girl from wandering off into oblivion. Constantly, she found herself gripping Anna's hand in her own, easing her gently away from the merchants and back towards the straight, dusty road.

"ELSA! Elsa! Do you see? That guy is selling a rainbow string! It's RAINBOW! I _need_ it!"

"Anna, I told you. I didn't bring much money—only one coin—so we need to save it for something _really_ cool. Let's look around a little longer and see if we can find anything better."

Anna grumbled, a pout on her lips, but allowed herself to be led away willingly by hand, if a bit reluctant. Elsa managed to successfully browse town with her for ten more minutes before Anna's general excitement finally got a bit too much to handle.

It was all because of that one man, dressed in his black top-hat and intoxicatingly-mysterious midnight cape. With his wispy hair hanging over his eyes like a curtain, his teeth glinting like gems in his mouth, he smiled broadly at them and waved a long, brown stick in his hand. He stopped the girls just as they were reaching the end of town.

"Hello there, children!" he said, sticking out a hand in front of the road to keep them from getting away, "Before you go on, let me just take a moment of your time to ask you a simple question… do _you _like magic?"

"Yes!" Anna shouted eagerly, below Elsa had a chance to make up some cheap excuse to get away, "I love magic! It's the coolest thing _ever!_"

"Do you now?" asked the man, continuing to flash his shiny grin, "Well, what if I told you that for just a single gold coin, you could be amazed and bamboozled by the most impressive magic tricks you could ever imagine?!"

Anna gasped, face flushed with excitement. "Yes! I like that! Elsa, ELSA! Give him a coin! GIVE HIM A GOLD COIN!"

"Anna…" Elsa began, eyebrows raised in suspicion, "This is our only coin, you know. Are you sure you want to waste it on a simple little tr—?"

"YES ELSA YES! I WANT TO SEE MORE MAGIC! PLLLLEEEEAAASSSSEEE!"

Elsa rolled her eyes, but there was something about her sister—the childlike pout on her lips, perhaps, or the widening of her eyes—that was just too cute to resist. Heavily, the older princess groaned in defeat.

"_Fine_," she tutted, pulling a gold coin from the pocket of her casual, blue dress, "But don't complain to _me_ when you find something cool in the market district that we don't have the money for."

Slowly, with the smallest bit of reluctance, Elsa cupped the coin in her hand and handed it over to the bright, smiling man. He pocketed it with ease, and then, reaching out his other pocket, pulled out a bright red deck of cards. They looked completely brand-new and unused, and that made Elsa even more suspicious. Still, she followed as he slowly led Anna to a large redwood tree near the edge of the road and leaned himself upon it, fanning out the paper in his hands.

"Pick a card!" he began, voice deep and rumbling, tinged with wonderful mystery, "Any card!"

"Ummm…" Anna reached into the pile and pulled out the first card that touched her fingers, peeking at it with confusion, as if wondering when the magic would begin. She'd never seen a card trick, before. The only magic she was familiar with was Elsa's magic... but maybe there were other kinds of it.

"Got one," she said after a moment, gazing at it with a fiery intensity, "Now what?"

"Good," said the man, fake smile seeming to be plastered to his face permanently, "Now, memorize your card—but don't tell me what it is—and put it back in the pile."

Elsa peeked at the card herself… it was an eight of hearts... and processed it in the back of her brain. She nodded at her little sister, who then preceded to place it gently back inside the pile, careful not to cause any ripples or tears on its smooth surface.

"Okay," she said bemusedly, "Now wha—"

Suddenly, before she could even finish, the man was shuffling the deck in his hands. With fingers moving as fast as bullets, the cards were soon completely out of order. Anna watched it all in amazement. If _that_ had been the magic, maybe she wouldn't have ended up so disappointed.

"Now…" he said, stretching the word to add to the effect, "There's no possible way I saw your card, right?"

"Right, I guess."

"And I shuffled this deck completely, so it's all out of order, right?"

"Umm… right?"

"So, it's highly unlikely that out of these fifty-two cards that the next one I pick—randomly, of course—will be _your_ card, right?"

"Okay."

"Well, what about _this_," suddenly, the man reached into his pile and yanked out a card, yielding it like a trophy, holding it outstretched for her to see, "Is _this_ your card?"

Anna looked at it blankly.

"No."

At her words, the man looked a little confused—maybe even a little embarrassed—so he tossed it to the side, where it landed harshly in the dirt, and picked again. "Hmmm… well then, what about _this_!"

Anna looked again and shook her head.

"Nope. Not that one."

He tried one more time, failed one more time, and after that seemed to become a bit annoyed. A bit exasperated. He wasn't the only one.

"Then what _was_ your card?" he asked finally, shaking his head in frustration, dark hair swinging over his eyes.

"Uh… it was an eight of hearts, I think."

The man looked back at his handful of cards, shuffling quickly through the deck.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, pulling one out, "_Here_ it is!"

Anna nodded, looking at him blankly, expecting something more.

"Well…" said the man, showing off his flashy grin again, this time with false pride, "There's that magic trick I promised you! Make sure to come again if you ever want to be amazed! As long as you have the coin, of course…"

"Wait, what?" exclaimed Anna, eyes suddenly wide and disbelieving, "That wasn't _magic! _Isn't there anything else?"

The man shrugged, suddenly vastly uninterested in them both, knowing they had no more money to give.

"Sorry, sweetie. You want to see some of my better tricks, you have to give some better coin. Like I said, come again later."

"B-but! But!" Anna stammered, tears beginning to prick the corner of her eyes, "But you said you would amaze us with magic… and then, and then you _didn't!_ And we don't have any money left! And that's…. and that's…. NOT FAIR!"

"Sorry, sweetie," the man repeated, shoving all his cards into his pocket, "Life's not fair."

By this time, Anna was beginning to blubber and pout like a baby, and though she wasn't showing it, Elsa, too, wasn't very happy. Wasn't very happy at all.

"Wait!" Elsa shouted in desperation, just as the man was beginning to walk away from them, "I can do magic too, you know!"

Slowly, the man turned on his heels, an amused grin beginning to form across his face.

"Is that so? Well then, sweetie, I'd _love _to see what you can do that's better than my own."

_That's not going to be hard, _Elsa thought to herself, smirking slightly at what this so-called 'magician' didn't understand. And what he was seconds away from seeing.

"Okay!" she said, "Watch this!"

With that sentence, she spoke more to Anna, than to anybody. She wanted to make sure her little sister got a great view of how to stand up, how to fight back, when somebody cheated her, or manipulated her, or outsmarted her, or was just plain _mean_ to her. That was an important lesson to learn, so Elsa figured she might as well be the one to teach it.

And in an instant, Elsa had moved closer to the man, sticking out her arm in front of him. He seemed confused for a second, but then his eyes widened in shock as suddenly an entire transparent hand appeared right out of thin air. A hand made out ice. He stood stalk-still as the icy limb—no body or brain to connect to—reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his coin, and placed it gently into the blond girl's palm. Then, it fell to the ground and shattered, and Elsa smiled at the look of absolute horror on the man's face.

"Magic," she said simply, but she wasn't sure if he could hear her. Already, he was half-way through town, sprinting away from her as fast as his legs could carry him, screaming like a maniac. And Anna—sweet, little Anna—lay rolling hysterically on the ground, laughing as if she'd just heard the more hilarious joke in the world.

"DID YOU SEE HIS FACE!" she screamed, face red with uncontrollable giggles, "Did you _see_? Elsa... what you did... that was the bestest thing I've ever seen anybody do _ever_!"

Elsa attempted to shrug the complement off, but could not help the surge of pride that swelled inside her heart. That _was_ pretty cool, wasn't it?

"Yeah, sure," she said to her sister, cheeks flushed themselves, "But just don't tell Mom and Dad, okay? You know how I'm not supposed to show people my powers outside the castle."

After managing to regain control of herself—which took quite a long time, Elsa thought—Anna finally brought herself to nod, now hiccuping from lack of air.

"Okay, Elsa! I would never tell on you!"

And just like that, the two girls were wandering around again, off to find their next great adventure. It didn't take long, however, for Anna's curious little mind to get bored of its seemingly-endless search, and to start creating a small diversion of its own.

"Elsa!" the girl yelled suddenly, a light-bulb of an idea appearing out of thin air over her head, "Wanna play the knight-princess game?!"

Elsa, who was currently lost in her own swirl of thoughts, was immediately brought back to reality.

"You mean the thing with the dragon?"

Anna nodded vigorously, smiling like a fool.

"Yeah, yeah! That one."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Anna…" she began, rubbing her neck sheepishly, "We're in town, and people can see us here, and you know—"

"Let's go play it in the castle garden, then! Come on! You know it's my favorite! Pllleeeaaasssee!"

Elsa rolled her eyes, still feeling a bit unsure, but she simply couldn't stop herself from nodding. She had to admit… aside from building a snowman, that was also about one of her favorite things to do with her powers. It was just so... fun!

Five minutes later, Elsa sat delicately on her knees, crushing the cool grass of the garden beneath her. Standing besides her powerful sister, little Anna rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, willing and ready to play one of her most favorite games.

Slowly, taking a deep breathe, Elsa closed her eyes in concentration. Anna watched, completely in awe, as he sister's face scrunched up as tightly as a ball of paper, her hands outstretched and moving in the air as if trying to mold an invisible chunk of clay. Inside her own head, Elsa was visualizing, and imagining, and seeing things without ever really seeing them at all. She was carving and feeling and really just creating—the best thing in the world, she thought—and by the time she felt sure enough to open her eyes, she was met by the sight of a magnificent dragon.

It was made out of ice, of course, and it wasn't terribly large—only slightly smaller than the average-sized bear. Still, it was incredibly detailed, looking like a sculpture carved by only the greatest artist on earth. Or, at the very least, someone with incredibly precise, steady hands. It had large, deadly teeth sticking out from a pit of a mouth, completely rounded eyes with dilating pupils, and narrow slits to serve as nostrils on a heavy snout. Its back was carved with intricate little scales, a spike or two sticking out every now and then, and then slowly thinned out into a long, flicking tail. What was most intoxicating about the creature, however, were it's two large, bony wings. They glittered ferociously in the sun—made of thousands of tiny ice crystals—and folded to its body in such a way that they looked as thin as paper. The entire creature, really, was a sight to take in. And not just for Elsa…

"Oh my _gosh!" _little Anna exclaimed as she absorbed the image with her brain, bouncing up and down, "This one is even better than the last dragon!"

Elsa laughed at her enthusiasm, and in one quick flit of the wrist, had conjured an icy knight's helmet to sit on top of the red-head's hair, to be accompanied by a cold, translucent sword in her fist. In another flit, she had spawned a teeny-tiny village of ice people ten feet away from her, all running like crazy and screaming in high-pitched voices, as if they were actually alive.

"Come now, Knight-Princess Anna!" Elsa announced, suddenly speaking in a very important, official voice, "Your beloved kingdom... called Ice-endelle, or something... is under attack by a horrible monster! Defend your people from the horrible dragon of the North Mountains! Do what you must and kill the beast!"

Immediately getting into the game, Anna raised her icy sword above her head and let out a semi-fierce battle cry.

"You will never destroy Ice-endelle, you monster! DIE FOWL BEAST!"

And then it was on, Anna swinging and poking and prodding the ice dragon with her stick of a sword, the dragon flicking its heavy tail and occasionally releasing its breath of fire—which just-so-happened to be a flurry of tiny snowflakes. Fire wasn't exactly Elsa's specialty.

"Knight-Princess Anna swings at the dragon's back, and—ooh, she misses. But there she goes again! She hits, she hits!"

Elsa, as was protocol in this certain game, was narrating this whole event, providing the much-needed commentary. Anna tried hard not to giggle through it all, keeping her head as the only defender for her precious ice-city.

"Oh no! The dragon swipes its tail and nearly knocks our hero off her feet… but no, she keeps her balance! Fight Anna, fight! Show them all just what a princess can do!"

"Princesses can be knights just the same as princes can!" Anna added, taking another nasty swing at the dragon's leg.

"They sure can, Anna! And us two… one day, we'll be better than all those princes combined!"

"RIGHT!"

Another ferocious swing from Anna, another dead-on hit, another snowflake-sprinkling from the angry dragon.

"We can defeat anything that comes our way!"

"Right!"

Anna pushed her sword under the dragon and managed to knock it off it's feet. It lay on the ground for a moment, growling and kicking and writhing like a beast, yet unable to push itself back up.

"And nothing will _ever_ tear the two of us apart!"

"Right!"

Anna raised her blade, bringing it down into a sharp arc through the air, and then plunged it into the dragon's fragile underbelly. Immediately—right on contact, in fact—the dragon crumbled to a heap of ice shards. For a moment, there was silence, and then a tirade of victorious whoops from Anna.

"I did it! _We_ did it!" she yelled, voice full of pride, and Elsa congratulated her with a strong, joyful smile. Anna flushed under the approval. Then, much to the Ella's surprise, she even ran up and hugged her around the waist, chalk-full of warm emotion.

"We did it!" she kept repeating, over and over again, "We did it, we did it, we _did_ it!"

Soon, freed from their horrifying demon, the people of the ice village began to rush up to the knight-princess, kissing her ankles and throwing out thanks after thanks in her direction. They were all so appreciative that they spent the next half-hour having a full-out ice celebration, Anna and Elsa dancing and giggling and cheering right along with them. By the time the hot sun managed to melt the ice people away, both girls were red in the face from exercise, breathing quite heavily, yet still laughing like maniacs.

"I love this game," Anna remarked after a long moment of silence, smiling obscenely.

"It's fun," Elsa agreed, and then the silence descended upon them again. Long and thick and hot as summer.

Finally, after far too long, a thought bubbled to the top of Elsa's brain, and she thought she'd be a fool not to voice it.

"Hey… we still have that gold coin, you know."

Anna looked up from where she sat on the ground, the grin slowly spreading across her face, as if this realization had just occurred to her.

"Wait, you mean… we can go buy the rainbow string I wanted?"

Elsa looked up towards the sky, taking in the swirl of colors that painted the horizon.

"The sun's setting now, and we should be home by dark, but I bet we still have a good twenty minutes to go out and buy whatever we want—though, I still think we can do better than that little rainbow string."

Two minutes later, the girls were galavanting through town, trying desperately to get to the merchants' stands before they all closed for the night. Anna, for instance, was in such a hurry, that she didn't even notice when the sound of Elsa's feet continuously pounding the ground silenced behind her.

"S-Spare change?"

The voice was weak and raggedy, quite hopeless in its desperate attempt to sound somewhat pleasant to the ear, and be it by instinct or courtesy, Elsa found herself slowing to a stop immediately upon hearing it.

"Excuse me?"

For a moment, she was unsure of where it came from, but then a weak cough broke out into the air from somewhere on her left, and she turned to see a sickly-looking man besides her. He was crouched like a child against a heavy, crumbling brick wall, and was by far the most pitiful sight she'd ever seen in her life.

"Spare change?" asked the man again, jiggling around a little cup with no more than a few measly, gray medallions.

"Oh," said Elsa, her mind all the sudden running circles around its self, "You need money?"

The man nodded slowly, almost shamefully, and avoided her gaze. Elsa felt a well of emotion begin to swirl inside her heart, but for the moment she held it all back.

"Please, Miss. You are the princess of Arendelle, are you not? You have good coin. I'm just… so hungry. I need a little something to feed my family. Please?"

Elsa stared, and the man continued to shield his eyes from her own. She could just sense the way this mere plea for help was bruising his pride, deflating his already shaky ego. Poor man. And look how thin he was… he really must have been _so_ hungry.

"You have a family?" she asked him slowly, not knowing why she was so intent on talking to this man, only knowing the she felt as if she absolutely had to, "What are they like?"

"I-I have a daughter… around your age, I think. As sweet as candy, she is. And I have a son. He's smaller, but the funniest guy you ever knew."

"Wife?" asked Elsa, wondering why she was so curious.

Sadly, the man shook his head. "Not since last year, Ma'am."

And it was at those words that Elsa had made her decision.

"Anna!" she called to the dark road ahead, "Anna! Where are you? Come back!"

The girl was already halfway done the road—nearly out of sight—but by the third time her name was called she came trudging back, pouting on behalf of the fact that her time with whatever pretty toy she would buy next was being postponed.

"What are you _doing_?" Anna asked, eyes wide, "Can't we go buy a toy now? I wanna go buy a _toy!"_

"Actually, Anna," Elsa began, not looking forward to whatever tantrum was going to occur next, "I think we're not going to buy a toy today after all."

"What?" the redhead squeaked, eyes wide and voice disbelieving, "B-But—"

"But this man needs the money more than we do," interrupted Elsa, pulling the coin from her little dress pocket, "So it's our job to give it to him."

At this, the broken man leaning against the wall seemed shocked and bewildered, nearly speechless at the sight of the coin.

"The _gold_ one?" he remarked, unbelieving, "Are you sure?"

Though Anna had never been one for currency, Elsa had already been taught a great deal about economics from her tutor, and she was well aware of the different values of Arendelle money. The dull gray coins—the only one's in which he seemed to have—were the smallest, or least valuable ones, which could often be found littering the towns sewers or stuck up in gutters. After that, only worth a bit more, there were the bronze, then there were the silver, and then, finally, there was the great gold. Those were considerably more valuable. The man probably hadn't even _seen_ a gold coin for months.

"Sure," said Elsa, smiling warmly at him, "Buy your family a good meal. Anna and I understand."

"B-but—" Anna protested, "What about—?"

She was immediately silenced by Elsa's cold hand pressing against her mouth, the rest of her words coming off as unintelligible mumbles.

"Come on, Anna. Let's go home. Have a good night, Sir"

And soon the two were walking away towards the castle, the older girl confident and proud of herself, while the younger girl stuttered like a maniac, incapable of understanding.

Finally, at the castle gates, Anna finally found her tongue long enough to ask the question that had been on her mind since the beginning.

"Elsa!" she exclaimed, not sure whether to be angry or sad, "Why did you do that? I wanted my toy!"

Elsa shrugged and sat herself down on the pavement, her back pressed gently against a brick wall behind her. She patted the ground besides her to invite Anna to join. Slowly, with much reluctance, the redhead plopped herself to the floor, pout still etched on her lips.

"Anna…" Elsa began, stroking the girl gently on the head, "We're blessed."

"Huh?" She wasn't understanding yet. That was alright, though, Elsa didn't expect her to.

"We're blessed, Anna. We live in a really big castle, with as much food as we can eat and the nicest parents either of us could ever imagine. Our futures are assured, and we'll always live a life of privilege. We may not _ever_ know any real suffering, Anna. We're blessed."

Slowly, the girl nodded, suddenly beginning to form her mind around the idea.

"But some people," Elsa continued, "Like that man, for instance, _aren't_ as blessed. They may not have homes, or food, or even parents, Anna. All the things we take for granted."

Anna seemed confused at this. She'd always lived such a privileged life, shielded from the horrors of the world… Elsa couldn't blame her for assuming that everybody else lived the same.

"So," Elsa continued, "Even though we really wanted that toy, I thought it was more important that we give that man the coin, so that he could buy what he really _needs_. Something we both already have. Do you understand, Anna?"

Slowly, the girl nodded, eyes wide and absorbing.

"I think so," she said slowly, and as Anna's mind spun and mulled over the completely new idea, there was silence for the longest amount of time. That is, until the little redhead decided to speak again.

"You know, Elsa? You're probably the nicest person in the whole entire _world_!"

At this, Elsa smiled slightly, cheeks flushed in amusement.

"You'll be, too, once you start understanding this type of stuff. You'll get it all once you're older, I promise."

"I hope so. I hope I'll be just like _you_ when I'm older."

Elsa, suddenly, felt a wash of pride as strong as iron rush through her veins. It took all her might to continue speaking, rather than just letting the smile run its path across her face.

"And I hope I'll be just like _you_," she said, "Now come on, you look exhausted, let's get up to bed."

It took that sentence for Anna to realize just how tired she really was. There were large, purple bags under her eyes, and each time she blinked, she struggled to raise her eyelids again. Maybe not sleeping last night really _wasn't_ the best idea. Suddenly, Anna let out a deep, skin-tingling yawn, and before she knew it, Elsa was leading her inside by the hand, words of comfort flying from her lips and hanging beautifully in the air. Finding it hard to stand, Anna leaned against the girl's shoulder, smiling to herself at the coolness of it.

On both of the girls' minds was the exact same thought:

_I have the best sister in the world._

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><p><strong>Well... I hope you liked that! It was just a combination of a bunch of cute little dribbles I thought up independently, and then sewed together to all happen in one day. We all know how Anna is a really brave, independent sort of girl—one who doesn't exactly fit society's expectation of her, but doesn't care—so I thought it'd be cute if this was something she originally learned from Elsa... but she remembered this lesson, where as Elsa forgot it, leading to her succumbing to her father's wishes. IDK, I just liked the thought.<strong>

**Btw, the 'we know better' scene with Elsa and Anna in the tree is actually based off of the frozen outtake titled 'We Know Better.' Find it on youtube... it really is adorable. Thanks a bunch to Eman for reminding me to include this note, since somehow it just completely slipped my mind.**

**Anyway, this isn't my most detailed chapter, so sorry about that. I was on vacation for five days without my computer, so I didn't have a lot of time to write this. I hope it's okay, though! Not as emotional as usual, of course, but just a breath of sweetness to give you all a nice, rewarding break from the drama.**

**Remember to review and tell me if you want a sequel or not!**


	12. The Curse or The Blessing

**Hey everybody! It's update time...**

**Okay, so for this chapter, I sort of played with a theme that I wanted to include in the main story of my fic, but never really got around to it. I also went a little deeper into the relationship between Elsa's parents, and what their experience with her powers has been. It's a pretty short chapter (sorry for that) but I'm glad I included it, since I feel it's something important in developing Elsa's character.**

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><p>According to her parents, Elsa came into the world with a rather...<em> icy<em> start.

Chills. That's what the 'disease' had started out as. The beloved Queen of Arendelle—six months pregnant and as excited as ever to meet her little successor to throne—getting seemingly-random chills in the middle of the night. That's all it had been.

It wasn't a big deal, really. Or, at least, that was what everybody assumed. Chills, chills, only chills. Nothing scary, nothing dangerous, nothing the Queen of Arendelle couldn't handle. It was a side affect of the pregnancy, they'd all thought. Babies do have a strange effect on the body, after all.

_The chills will subside_, the doctor said, over and over again, _The chills will subside._

But subside they did not. As the weeks passed by—the pregnancy going farther and farther along—the little chills slowly and steadily worsened. Becoming stronger and colder and all-the-more terrifying. Not even two months passed, and soon the Queen found herself in bed constantly, wrapped as tightly as she could in her covers yet somehow still shivering like a madman. When the King walked in on her one day, near the nine-month mark of the pregnancy—her skin as pale as a ghost, teeth chattering like a skeleton, and (perhaps the most alarming) frost creeping up the back of her neck—he had decided enough was enough. The doctor who'd dismissed her chills as a mere side-affect was fired, and by the next morning, ten more were hired on the spot, all considered the absolute best in the kingdom.

"I'm a-all r-right," the bedridden Queen had stuttered as the medical staff had crowded around her, staring as if she were some sort of alien species, "R-Really, I am, dear. Don't w-worry about m-me."

"What about the baby?" he had asked, taking her dainty hand in his own firm one, worry knotting his stomach as he realized it was as cold as ice, "Whatever disease is doing this to you... how is it affecting our child? We can't let it be hurt."

It seemed that only the threat of harm to her not-yet-newborn could get the Queen to comply to the constant pokes and prods by all the baffled doctors, for she had always hated being fussed over. She despised the way they stared at her—as if she were a talking dead-woman—and their baffled whispers of this 'medical mystery' did not escape her ears. Though the King was still determined to save her, the Queen had long since accepted her gloomy fate. Whatever it was that was numbing her from the inside-out with this terrible cold, she knew she held no chance to stop it. Her only hope was that her child would arrive in time to be saved from the frosty icebox inside of her, and had not picked up the terrible illness itself.

Her selfless prayers must have been heard by the receptive ears of some all-powerful being, for on the very night that she felt most weak—the King sitting alone by her bed, holding her icy hand as silent tears slowly cascaded down his cheek—she went into a sudden and unexpected labor. Doctor after doctor came shuffling in to assist with the birth, and three painful hours later, the Queen sat in her bed holding a tiny, squirming baby girl in the crook of her arms.

"She's beautiful," the Queen had whispered, her voice cracked and tears swimming in her eyes. The King had just nodded in agreement, indescribable relief and joy flushing away his past months' sorrow. Both were so overcome with emotion that they didn't even notice the spot spots of freshly-fallen snow that had somehow ended up all over the blanket used to clean the baby off.

"Her name will be... Elsa," the King announced to one of the servants going out to spread the news, "After her great-grandmother, on her mother's side. Tell them all that Elsa is a happy and healthy baby girl. Completely normal in every single way."

The servant nodded and sped off in a second, a notable spring in his step. Little did the King know just how very wrong he would prove to be...

The actual discovery of Elsa's powers had been—while rather terrifying to the confused King and Queen at the time—quite a comical story, to say the very least.

Elsa had been barely a week old at the time. But by then, all the fuss over the Queen's pregnancy seemed to be over. The number of doctors on castle staff had been greatly reduced, and the Queen herself had been out of bed for five entire days. In fact, as she liked to say to anyone who'd listen, she had never felt better. Despite the troubles in the womb, the King and Queen were proud to note that little Elsa had turned out just fine. Admittedly, her skin felt rather cold at times, and her hair was a strange, blondish-white color—so different from the browns and reds that existed in the royals' family history—but the doctors did not seem overly concerned about either of these issues. The cold skin was a side-affect of a premature birth, which would likely fade over time, and as for the hair... probably just a genetic mutation. And a beautiful one, at that. Surely the girl would grow up to be quite the stunning princess. Her blood test—which would be checking for any abnormalities in her system—was to be preformed at the end of next week, but besides that, nobody seemed overly concerned about the girl's health. If she could survive her Mother's nearly-deadly sickness, than surely she could survive anything.

The King and Queen had been standing shoulder-to-shoulder one afternoon, admiring baby Elsa from the glow of a nearby window, when the truth had finally hit them.

"Look at that beautiful hair," the Queen had stated, watching the way it shimmered in the winter sunlight, "And that lovely fair skin. How on earth did we wind up with such a magnificent creature as our daughter."

"Her eyes," muttered the King, unable to say much else, "Bluer than the fjord. They're hypnotizing, I can't bare to look away from them."

Slowly, the Queen sighed in contentment. Relieved just to be alive, and with her beautiful baby girl in her arms.

"She's perfect," she muttered, eyes glimmering with tears of joy.

"She is," agreed the King. He could barely take his eyes off her. Both of the parents were so caught up in admiring their creation, in fact, that they missed the way her pale nose crinkled suddenly, her small mouth opened just the teeniest bit, and her bright eyes squinted to a close.

"ACHOO!"

Time froze. The Queen's eyes widened in shock. The King's mouth fell open in disbelief. What had just _happened? _Neither had any idea, and as a matter-of-fact, neither _wanted_ to know. Their darling, perfect little Elsa had just sneezed... and a blizzard had popped right out of her nose.

The befuddled parents stood there for what felt like hours. The Queen was oh-so-slightly aware of the bits of snow and ice that covered her cheek—in the exact spot that her daughter's sneeze had just hit. The King's chin suddenly felt very wet and freezing cold. The baby just slept on. And on and on and on.

For reasons unknown to the rest of the staff, the King and Queen decided to move baby Elsa's blood test a week early.

"This won't hurt at all," they heard as the doctor stuck a small, gray needle into their daughter's arm. Of course, she burst out crying immediately—because it did indeed hurt quite a lot—but that wasn't exactly what bothered them about the situation.

"Woah," the man had exclaimed in bewilderment, gazing at the small jar of blood he had just taken for examination, "Um... wow."

"What?" the King and Queen had asked hurriedly, panic filling their system, "Is there something wrong?"

"Uh..." said the doctor, looking a little sheepish, "Not wrong, per say, but I think there's something you should see."

And then he had showed them the vile, held it out like a bomb in his hand, and they had been speechless. Utterly speechless.

Her blood was glittering. Literally, it was glittering. Even with so little sunlight coming out of one little window in the room, the dark red liquid glowed and flashed and danced like a reflective surface of glass. Looking close up, they could see tiny crystals of some unknown substance swimming inside her, some areas of the blood containing such a high concentration that they filled the red with streaks of pale blue. It took the King and Queen a few seconds to understand what was going on, but when they did, they were completely horrified.

Ice. Their daughters veins were swimming with crystals of ice.

Of course, the concerned parents had thousands of questions to ask, but the baffled doctor had no answers to give them. He did, however, have a rather unique piece of advice. One the King was sure never to forget.

"Here, take this," he said to him, handing him a rather ancient-looking map, "It will lead you directly to the troll kingdom, up North. They can be a rather unpredictable species, so I wouldn't go there unless you had to, but if things get out of hand... they're the people you'll need to talk with. They know magic better than anyone."

"Magic?" the Queen had gasped from somewhere behind her husband, "You don't mean..."

The doctor nodded solemnly, allowing the Queen's words to trail off hopelessly. "Magic," he repeated, "I mean exactly that."

After that little incident—though Elsa still does not know exactly _when_ the fact that their daughter had magical powers began to set in for the King and Queen—time passed, and of course, things only got more intense for the royal family.

As a toddler, the baffled and terrified parents watched as their little ice princess picked up the semi-innocent habit of blowing tufts of wind and snow around the house. Father claimed to have walked into her bedroom one day—intent on waking her up from her mid-afternoon nap—only to find the girl already sitting up in her crib, giggling insanely. All her toys—from the floppy doll sewed by her Mother, to the heavy, wooden dollhouse carved by her Father—were flying and tumbling recklessly through the air, trapped in a powerful swirl of ice and snow.

"Stop, Elsa!" Father had bellowed, fear flooding through him. He remained unheard through the roar of the icy wind, so he yelled again. This time louder, more commanding.

"ELSA! NO! Stop this instant!"

This time she seemed to have heard him—heard even the anger clinging to his words—for just as he commanded, Elsa stopped. Stopped everything. The once powerful wind became still-air, and the silence that suddenly descended upon them was so thick it was palpable. The toddler could have chocked on it, had it not been broken by the sound of her dollhouse crashing to the ground and smashing into a thousand wooden pieces.

"Elsa!" Father continued, his voice still coated in fury, yet now no more than a huff, "No! No, Elsa! What have I told you about doing this? Bad! Very bad!"

The toddler, still standing excitedly in her crib, now looked at him with large, blue eyes, revealing her obvious confusion. Her scraps of blond hair, now down to her neck in length, were tied back into a wavy ponytail, and her little pink lips were agape in surprise and shock. Suddenly, without even a hint of warning, tears began to inexplicably slide down her cheeks, and soon she was wailing at the top of her lungs.

"Oh, Elsa," Father said again, this time his voice softer, filled with sympathy, "I'm sorry, Elsa. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He walked forward and pulled her from her crib, holding her in his arms and allowing the girl to curl up and cling ever desperately to his chest. The child was still crying, but now the tears slid silently, and after five minutes of calm, Father listened as Elsa's breathing slowed to a pattern of deep sleep. He continued to gaze at her face, however, for a much longer time. A thousand thoughts bombarded his mind, and unlike his darling daughter, he was unable to find peace for even a moment.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand anything. Why did she have these powers? How could he teach her to use them? Were they even able to be controlled at _all_? One day, his girl would need guidance—would look to him begging for some much-needed help—but he just wouldn't know what he would say to her. It was so humiliating, sometimes. To be so naturally skilled at knowing how to rule an entire kingdom, yet when it came to raising his one and only daughter, to be so completely and utterly _clueless_.

He wanted to help her, though. He really did. Because as much as his wife cooed about her powers, going on and on about how 'special' their daughter was, about what a great hero she was going to grow up to be, he knew that there was something bad in there. Something evil. He remembered as if it were yesterday the day his wife had almost died from them. The way he had almost lost the very love of his life. Those powers... they may have been pretty, but they could hurt. If was his job—and one day, her job, too—to make sure they didn't.

Oh, but it was going to be so hard to be reassuring to his little girl. Especially when he felt so terrified himself.

Ever slowly, he put the napping girl back inside her crib, and tip-toed out of her room. The little girl had absolutely no idea of the troubles her powers would bring her, one day. All she knew was that she was capable of doing things that nobody else could do, and she had liked that. She'd liked that a lot.

Though there had been a bit of tension before, things between the King and Queen reached a tipping-point when baby Anna was born. Of course, they had both been extremely relieved to see her fiery hair and bright spattering of freckles—neither wanted to relive the toddler years of having to constantly clean up spots of snow around the house—but before long, relief had turned to fear. At least for one side of the couple.

"Are you sure this is _safe?" _the King had asked one day as he observed his two daughters—at the ages of one and four—playing together on the carpeted floor.

"Of course, dear," simpered the Queen, smile glued to her face as she watched her darling children getting along, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"She could _hurt_ her, you know. Elsa could hurt Anna. Her powers are... most unpredictable."

The woman had shrugged this statement off, still looking so pleased as she gazed at her little girls through the doorway. She didn't seem to want to hear him, so she avoided the statement entirely.

"Oh, Anna loves the powers. Remember when she was an infant? She'd start wailing for no reason, and no matter what we did, we'd just never be able to calm her down. But all Elsa would have to do—bless her little soul, she's such a sweet-heart—would be to go to her crib and release a flurry of snowflakes right above her, and in an instant Anna would be giggling her little head off. She thinks the powers are wonderful, and as a-matter-of-fact, so do I. There's certainly nothing to be afraid of."

"She's getting stronger, though," noted the King, eyes still screwed up in concentration and worry, "Cold can be dangerous for young children. What if... something happens?"

"For heaven's sake," the Queen continued, now looking just the tiniest bit annoyed at his insistence of the subject, "All she ever does is blow around snowflakes and build little snowmen with her sister. There's no harm in that, dear. I find it rather beautiful, actually."

"But, what about—"

"We don't have to announce to the world that we have a magical daughter," she interrupted, not yet finished with her rant, "but let's not worry her about it. She's got something about her that makes her different from every other person on the face of the planet... it's pretty much a given that she's going to have some self-esteem issues in her future. Limiting her time with Anna will only make her think that somethings wrong with her even sooner. I'm her mother... of course I want her to be confident. So we're going to have to treat her just like a normal girl, okay? I know you're worried, but please don't go scolding her for something that is beyond her control."

For the first time all day, the Queen turned from her playing daughters and caught her husband's gaze. A long while passed as they stared at each other in silence—her eyes wide and pleading, his fearful and unsure—and then for some unexplainable reasons, he found himself unable to do anything other than nod.

"Alright," he murmured slowly, "I'll let it be." Then the Queen smiled, and so did he.

He had meant those words when he said them, of course, but things do change over time. As Elsa's powers grew only stronger and stronger in the next few months, the two sisters only growing closer and closer, fear crept back into his heart. Whenever Elsa approached him—proudly showing off the new formations of snow she had taught herself to make—he did not give her the same high praises and hugs that her mother seemed so content to throw about. Instead, he began to slowly lower her hand, looking seriously into her innocent face.

"Be careful with that," he'd murmur to her each time, stroking her blond-white hair with the roughness of his palm, "You don't know what you're capable of."

He'd tried to keep his little 'talks' quiet from the Queen, but eventually it caught her notice, and the brave mother decided that it was her job to set things straight with her little girl.

"Elsa," she had whispered one day, after a rather extravagant display of snowflakes from the princess, "You have a wonderful gift from above... you know that, don't you? It's a miracle and a blessing, and you have absolutely nothing at all to be ashamed of. But you need to be careful about who you show it to, because there are some people out there who might think it's a curse."

"Is it?" the young princess had whispered, fear filling her face as this harsh realization struck her, "Is it a curse?"

"Curses do not create beautiful things," Mother answered, after a moment of thoughtful silence, "So it's a blessing."

"Then... why would anyone even _call_ it a curse?"

Suddenly, Mother grew very quiet, frowning to herself. She seemed to have gone somewhere in her mind that Elsa could not follow, and so the girl stood quietly in front of her, waiting with patience for her gracious return.

"Because some people are looking so hard to see evil," she answered suddenly, exploding the tension-ridden silence, "That they see it even where it doesn't exist."

Elsa had nodded thoughtfully at this statement, and it was right then and there that she created her first full-memory of childhood.

A week later—having somehow overheard the conversation between the two—Father took_ his_ turn to teach her a lesson.

"There are those who will tell you that something is a blessing," the man stated casually one day, almost as if he were remarking on the weather, "When it is really a curse."

"Why, Papa?" Elsa had asked him, generally curious, "Why's that?"

"They are deceived by their own desire," he had whispered back, voice sounding far too sad and lonely, content far too serious to be sharing with a little girl, "They wish the world were a better place."

"But why?" the girl had asked, still not quite understanding, "How does _that_ help?"

"They pretend that dangerous things are safe," answered Father immediately, as though he had practiced this exact conversation a thousand times, "So that they don't have to fear them."

Elsa had nodded just like the first time, and again, she had absorbed the memory into the very back of her brain. Though she was still so incredibly young—having only just reached her fifth birthday—she still thought she could understand what was going on. Mother was warning her about Father, and Father was warning her about Mother. She just wasn't sure which one she ought to believe. Whenever she thought about it too much, it hurt her brain, so she just decided not to think about it at all. It was simpler that way. At the age she was, simpler was always better.

It was only when the incident occurred—when little Anna had been knocked unconscious by an icy strike to her head—that poor Elsa was forced to reconsider what both her parents had taught her. And it was only then—fear pulsing through her tiny body—that she knew that Father was right. He had to be. Mother must have known it too, the way she so willingly let him take the lead on raising her. Elsa had hurt somebody with what she could do, had nearly killed her very own sister by a mere slip of the hand... and if that wasn't a curse, nothing was.

She continued thinking that way for a long, long time after the incident—her pessimistic view of herself only briefly interrupted by her warm friendship with Benson. It was only at the age of twenty-one—the year in which she took the throne, her powers were revealed, and her world went askew—that she really, seriously, began to reconsider.

It was on that mountain. Climbing up all by herself, having just run away from her empire, from her home, from her sister. Taking off her final glove, her final prison, and letting the wind just carry it away. Looking back on that incident years later, she couldn't remember exactly what had happened when she'd built the ice palace—the memories had all fused together, leaving only a mix of images and the tingling sensation of pure joy—but by the end of it, she still knew that something had changed.

In her mind, her powers had no longer been a curse. No longer an evil, swirling, dangerous thing meant to hold her back and make her a monster. Now... now they were something else. Like her Mother said, they were a blessing. A gift from the Gods above that was made to give her power, give her love, give her freedom, give her everything she'd ever craved or wanted. She could create wonderful, beautiful, breathtaking things with what she could do. And if nobody appreciated just how much of a miracle she was—if they were all too jealous of her skill that they couldn't accept her for the way she was born—then so be it. She would live the rest of her life up here, all alone, and practice with her gift. Practice with her blessing. And nobody could stop her if they tried.

Of course, hours later fate rearranged things the way that it so tends to do, and Elsa _did_ end up going back. Brought back unconscious and draped in heavy chains, but back all the same. She tried to escape from her cell—may or may not have kneeled in front of a blade thinking that she was a murderer—and had ended up watching in horror as her sister froze solid in front of her very eyes. Then the thaw had happened... and well, the rest is history.

She wasn't sure exactly when it had happened—it was more of a slow realization, than a full-out punch to the face—but one day she had just been waltzing through her new kingdom, handing a few oversized snowflakes to begging boys and girls, when the thought had dawned on her. It must have been mulling in the back of her mind for a while, for she had not been surprised by it. It was more like a curtain had been flicked away from her brain, and a whole world of fresh, warm light had burst inside of her, melting the thick coating of self-doubt that lined its crevices. She'd known it all along, maybe, but finally she had learned enough to allow the obvious truth to come floating to the front of her conscious. She'd known it all along.

What Elsa had—the things that she could do, the things that she was born with—were neither a curse, nor a blessing. Neither darkness, nor light. Neither evil, nor good.

What it was... was her. It was her. The snow, the ice, the magic... all of it. It was not a gift bestowed upon her from an above force, or a penalty given by a darkened demon. It could not be, for there was no _her_ without it. Her powers, for lack of better term, _made_ her. That was they only way she could really, truly describe them. The question was not whether her_ powers_ were a curse or a blessing, it was whether her _existence _was.

She remembered the days she had sat curled up in her bedroom, wishing beyond hope that she could somehow rid herself of her terrible, awful abilities. Set herself free from the icy chains that bound her from the inside out. If only she had known then. Known that without her powers... without the affliction that she liked to call magic... there was simply no her at all. She did not—could not—exist. The ice was what made her body. The snow was what filled her being. The magic was her very soul. If you took them away, all you'd have left was an empty pile of skin and bones. Elsa _was_ her powers. And neither of her parents had ever known.

Oh, but _she _knew it. She knew it very well now. And she had made her decision.

If there were people out there like her mother—people who looked at her powers and saw a gift from the heavens, something extraordinary that had been implanted into this icy queen—then so be it, they could believe what made them happy. And if there were people like her father—people who saw what she could do and immediately assumed it was a curse from Satan, weaved into her very soul to repay for her sins—then so be it, they could think what they wanted, too. Because out of everybody in the entire world, only Elsa knew the truth.

There were no curses, were no blessings. There was just Elsa. And _this_, the entire damn package, was her. May that be good or bad, she didn't know.

It was funny, almost, the way that her Father had once thought that he could _cure_ her of what she had. The way that she had almost _believed _him. There was no single cure for her existence... well, there was, but she was certain her Father hadn't meant death. He had meant somehow pulling the powers out of Elsa, somehow removing them from her very soul, but she knew now that that simply wasn't logical. He hadn't understood that the very thing he _hated_ most in the world—the disease that had almost killed his wife and youngest daughter—was the very definition of one of the girls he _loved_ most in the world. Her powers were part of her, and they would always be.

It didn't matter, though. It didn't matter what he had thought, or what Mother had thought, or what anybody she had ever known had thought. It didn't even matter what they would think in the future. For now, for the mystical Snow Queen, her entire life suddenly made sense.

The world could say what they wanted, but only Elsa knew the truth.

Only Elsa knew the truth.

* * *

><p><strong>Well okay... that was it! Not my best work (in terms of detail it was definitely lacking), but not my worst, either, so that's good! I hope you liked it! I only have two more chapters to go, I think, and then this fic is over. It makes me depressed just thinking about it :'(<strong>

**Don't forget to review and tell me what you think! I swear, every single comment I get from you guys just makes my day. There** **are some ****awesome anon reviewers who just have the nicest things to say to me about each chapter, and it just kills me that I can't respond to them. I'm just letting you guys know that all your reviews, no matter if I respond or not, are read and appreciated. Thanks so much, you guys/girls!**

**Oh, and before I forget, you know the part of this chapter where Elsa 'sneezed a blizzard?' That's an idea that I borrowed from somebody, based on a picture I saw on ****. Her username is ****mairrye, and I really suggest checking out some of her drawings (especially the one I just talked about). I'll give you guys a link ;). **

**On second thought (and after half an hour of pathetic attempts to make it work), I realized that I don't really know how to make links on fanfiction, and for some reason this stupid website won't let me copy and paste the website address onto the chapter without deleting it. I'll just tell you what to search. ****Go on the website ****deviantart and type in 'Elsa's first snow.' When you see a picture of her Mother and Father holding a baby in their arms, you'll know you're in the right place.**

**Anyway, now that that's over with, see you guys later!**


	13. The Powers

**Hello everybody! I'm back again! Sorry if this chapter is late, but to be honest, I just don't know anymore. School has been killing me, and I've just been writing whenever I've found the time, regardless of how long it has been since my last update. Hopefully I haven't made you all wait TOO long.**

**Anyway, you know how in the sequel I said I was going to talk about Elsa's abilities to make living, thinking creatures with her ice magic? Well, I was always planning on including it in this fic instead (ever since Tolkienite333 suggested it in one of the really early chapters) and I just thought it would have been a shame to cut it out last minute because of the sequel. This fanfic, in my opinion, wouldn't feel complete if I didn't at least touch on the topic, so I decided to explain a little bit about Elsa's powers in a little one-shot story. It's very general, considering it is only based on Elsa's knowledge about her own powers-I'm planning on her learning a lot more about her powers in the sequel-but I think it's a good little 'sneak peak' about how she works. Hopefully you all like it!**

**This story occurs around three weeks after the movie, in case I don't make that clear enough ;) **

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><p>"Hey Elsa, are we there yet?"<p>

The question was quite a typical one to be asking on such a long, winding journey, and had the answer not been so glaringly obvious, maybe the queen wouldn't have been so surprised.

"This is _your _birthplace, Olaf. Shouldn't you be the one to recognize it?"

Taking a deep, determined breath of the icy air, Elsa turned her head a few degrees to the right, trying to get a quick peek at the overly-friendly snowman sitting behind her.

"I know," he said, "But it all looks the same out here. Kind of like... snow!"

_Yes, _Elsa thought wryly to herself, rolling her eyes, _snow does tend to look a bit like snow._

"So," she inquired, after a moment of silence, "You have absolutely no idea if we've arrived or not?"

"Nope."

"Not a clue?"

"Nope."

He wasn't exactly making it easy for her.

"Have you not noticed, then, that we're standing right in front of a giant ice palace?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, "What about it?"

"And that you happened to be _born_ right outside a giant ice palace?"

"Mhm?"

Elsa sighed to herself, shaking her head in exasperated amusement.

"Yes, Olaf. We're here."

"YAY! I'M HOME!"

The figure of snow squirmed and wiggled with excitement, and the Queen tried unsuccessfully to stifle her affectionate smile. The poor thing was so terribly clueless... yet, she found, almost in an endearing sort of way. Just like a child. And it was impossible not to like a child so incredibly selfless and cheerful.

In one swift motion, Elsa dismounted herself from her favorite horse—she called him Flame, just for the irony—and then lifted Olaf up from his seat like a toddler, placing him gently on the ground. She gave Flame a quick look of gratitude, patting him affectionately on the head, and he nickered softly into her hand. It couldn't have been easy, she figured, carrying the two of them for that three hour ride. Even _with_ his new saddle—which just-so-happened to be made out of the same freeze-proof fabrics as Elsa's old gloves—the poor steed was still shaking violently in the wind, whining softly to himself from the below-freezing temperature. After a few good weeks of uninterrupted summer, Elsa figured that _anyone_ would be reluctant to venture back onto these eternally snowy-mountains. Even her, though not for the same reasons.

"Hold on there, Flame. This shouldn't take long. We'll be back home in no time."

The knowing look in Flame's eyes hinted that he understood at least a part of what she was saying, and soon he was off galloping towards the woods, looking for a shelter of trees to help shield him from the cold. Elsa didn't allow herself to fret too much about this. He'd come back when she whistled; he always did.

"Bye, little guy!" Olaf called after him, waving needlessly at his backside. Then, still with that bright smile stretched across his face, he turned towards her.

"Where should we look first?" the snowman asked Elsa in that far-too-cheery voice of his, "It could be _anywhere!"_

"The last time I saw it, I threw it on the ground of my ice castle. I doubt any normal human-being would be willing to walk up all those frozen steps without a real reason, so it's probably still there. This won't take long."

Following in obedient affection, Olaf allowed himself to be led up the palace steps, through the front door, and all the way up to the top floor of the castle. A place that Elsa recognized far too well for her liking. It almost seemed a bit _eerie_, to tell the truth.

"We're here," she huffed, chest and legs aching for having walked that many steps, "Let's just grab it and get out, quickly. This place brings back memories I'd really rather leave behind."

Olaf nodded innocently—knowing she was talking about the incident in which she almost killed two men, was nearly killed herself by a falling chandelier, and had her unconscious body dragged back home by an evil Prince Hans—and ran forward to snatch the missing object for her.

"Where did you say you put it?" he asked confusedly, after scavenging around for a little while.

"I threw it right there on the floor, Olaf. It really couldn't have gone that far."

She too had started looking around, her eyes gliding over the icy-ground as keen and intuitive as a hawk's. Still, all she saw was ice and snow. No glint of gold, no flash of topaz. No crown.

"It has to be here, _somewhere_."

Elsa was beginning to feel a bit anxious, now. A bit guilty. If she had actually _lost_ her most important family heirloom—sacred not just to her parents, but to all of Arendelle—what was she supposed to say to people? "_Oh yeah, sorry I don't have a crown anymore. I kind of threw it away in an icy fit of hysterics a few weeks ago."_

The critics would be all over _that one_.

Still, if that was what ended up happening, she could say nothing more than the fact that she really, truly deserved it. It had been such a stupid thing to do to begin with, really. Why did Elsa never think before she acted? Why had she been so terribly impulsive? God, it was such a stupid thing to do.

The truth was, back in that point of time, she had never really expected things to turn out this way. In her mind, she had just been banished from Arendelle (or, at the very least, banished herself), and was destined to spend the rest of her life living in boundary-less isolation. When she had thrown that crown, right before she had constructed her icy dress, it had been a symbol of her letting go of the past. A symbol of forgetting all the lies and fear and responsibility that were holding her back. A symbol of complete and utter freedom. Never then had she imagined that she'd end up actually going _back_ to the throne.

Oh, but she had ended up like that, and here she was now. Searching high and low for the centuries-old, sentiment-filled, priceless artifact that she had so carelessly tossed to the ground a few short weeks ago. The crown... it had been in her family for generations. If it was gone for good, she just didn't know what she would do.

"Olaf," Elsa began again, her voice feeling tight in her throat, "Are you _sure_ it's not here? Can you see it _anywhere_?"

The snowman took one more quick glance around the room. "Nope, this place is empty."

Elsa let out a long, heaving sigh, her chest vibrating from the depth of it. "Yeah," she groaned, "I thought so."

For the past few weeks after the incident of the 'Great Freeze,' Elsa had been practically breaking her back with all the work she was doing. She'd attended an array of important meetings with foreign dignitaries to discuss the damages, written and presented an overwhelming number of apologetic speeches to smooth things out with her _own_ people, and had barely any time left over for sleep and relaxation. She was so busy, in fact, that only a week ago had her missing crown taken upon her notice.

"Just make yourself a new one out of ice," Anna had suggested when confronted with the news, and Elsa's accompanying panic-attack, "It'll probably turn out prettier, anyway."

"I can't just _leave_ the other one out in the snow!" Elsa had defended, her general exhaustion making her even more anxious than usual, "It's a family relic! Think of how much _history_ it holds!"

The girl had shrugged, holding little value in anything learning related, but seemed to understand at least the basics of the problem.

"Well, if it means that much to you, I can go ride up there and pick it up."

"No, no… it's a long, cold trip. I couldn't ask you to go that far for me _again. _I'll just have to find the time to do it myself."

"Why not ask a guard?"

"It's cold up there, Anna. They're be miserable riding through the snow for the three hours, not to mention having to actually spend time climbing up and searching a palace made entirely out of ice. A lot of them still don't completely trust me yet—I'll need to be extra lenient with them before I can win their loyalty back—and besides, I'm the only one who knows exactly where I threw it."

"But what about—?" Anna began, her mind filled with terrified thoughts of the chaos Arendelle might find itself in without a queen.

"I wouldn't be gone for long," Elsa interrupted, already knowing her question, "A day or two, at the most. You could take care of things until then, couldn't you?"

The shocked expression that crossed the redhead's freckled face was enough to make anyone giggle, and it was not without great difficulties that Elsa retained her serious composure. At least for a moment.

"Wait, _me_? Act as _queen?"_

"Yes, Anna," Elsa stated, smiling amusedly at the girl's bewildered tone, "I'm sure you're more than capable of dealing with the responsibilities of royalty for a day. I have complete faith in you."

"But what if I mess up? What if I spill pudding on a visiting prince, or break a priceless vase in the ball room, or—"

"You do all that stuff anyway," reminded the queen with a little smirk.

"—or set the castle on fire," continued Anna, unfazed, "Or explode the entire _world_? I'm not like you, Elsa! I'm not made to be all regal and smart! I'll never survive!"

"Anna, in case you've forgotten, I started off my rule by freezing the _entire_ empire of Arendelle. If you can do worse than that, I'll eat Sven."

At this, Anna smirked slightly, her tension waning.

"Kristoff would kill you."

"Exactly, so you better make sure not to mess up _that _badly. You wouldn't want your big sister to be murdered by your boyfriend, would you?"

Elsa smiled dangerously—knowing that if the fight were to actually arise, she would be perfectly capable of defending herself—but after a moment, Anna crinkled her nose in defeat.

"Ugh, fine… you can go and find your stupid crown. But you better not be gone for more than a day!"

At this, the blond smirked, eyes both pleased and amused.

"Of course. Sister promise."

After that conversation, it had taken little time for Elsa to prepare herself. She'd informed all her advisors and subjects that Anna would take her place during her absence, set the exact date for when she was to leave, carefully picked out her horse and all her equipment, and even agreed to let Olaf accompany her on the journey. Anna had insisted that she needed _someone_ to talk with during those long hours on the horse, and it seemed to Elsa that only a snowman would be able to stay comfortable and cheery after being in the cold for that amount of time. Olaf, of course, had been more than excited to hear the news.

"YAY! Now it's Elsa's turn to go on an adventure with me!" he had shouted as Anna had informed him of his duty, "I bet we're going to have so much fun! The two of us have so much in common, after all. Like snow… and ice… and cold… and snow… and ice… and did I mention snow?"

Up until that point, Elsa really hadn't known the snowman all that well. Ironically, despite it being Elsa's powers that brought him to life, he had grown far closer to Anna during their adventure together, and now the two were nearly inseparable. Elsa always found him a bit strange, to be honest, and a bitter reminder of all the childhood years she'd missed spending with her little sister. Still, she figured she ought to give him a chance. He did seem to be rather fond of her, after all, even if they weren't all that close. He would probably turn out to be decent company, if she could just get over his constant talking.

As Elsa had expected, the entire ride to the castle had been a rather… chatty one, to say the least. Not on Elsa's side—she preferred to ride her horses in silence and complacency—but Olaf's side was another story. Behind her, he talked on and on about how wonderful summer had really turned out to be. If she had counted correctly, he must have asked her for a warm hug at least six times, and he was not a bit shy about giving her a very detailed list about all his new best friends—some of which included people who'd only spoken two words to him.

Still, despite all this, Elsa found herself growing rather attached to the little guy. He was cute and silly, and though he could be classified as rather dim-witted, there was just something about him that made her feel so comfortable in her own skin. Maybe it was the way he called her 'the nicest, gentlest, warmest person ever' without even a tinge of irony or sarcasm in his voice. Maybe it was that bright, admiring smile on his lip-less mouth, which so reminded her of Anna's sympathetic grin. Or maybe it was just the fact that she had created something so cheerful and innocent, incapable of hurting even a fly.

Pleasant as the journey had been, it may have all been for nothing. For now, standing hopelessly in her ice castle, it seemed that the crown Elsa had come for was simply gone for good. Vanished into thin air

"Maybe… it fell off the balcony!" Elsa suggested as she gazed around the room one more time, trying to fight off the hopelessness sinking deep within her chest, "Maybe the wind blew it out, or something."

Olaf—helpful as ever—waddled over to the door to peer out of said balcony, having to stretch himself considerably just to be able to see above the railing.

"I can't tell," he said to her, "All I see is a bunch of snow. Do you think it's somewhere down there?"

Elsa sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose just the way her father used to do when he was stressed.

"If it is, we're going to have a heck of a job trying to find it."

'Heck of a job' didn't even begin to describe the task that awaited them. The snowy mountain, as large and intimidating as it looked through the ice palace's window, appeared even _bigger _from the ground. And no less blindingly white.

"We're one snow pile away from finding it!" Olaf assured her every fifteen snow piles they searched through, never seeming to lose his overall cheer and optimism, "We'll find it soon, Elsa! I promise!"

Elsa nodded and agreed, but deep down, she knew there was no hope. The crown could be _anywhere_ on this huge mountain—and that was assuming it was even on the mountain to begin with, and hadn't been stolen by a thief looking for a quick buck. It was so small and easily hidden, Elsa felt sure she could've searched the land for decades and never found it. It was such a hopeless battle, really. She couldn't understand why she hadn't just given up already. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting to disappoint poor, optimistic Olaf…

Still, search as the two might, they stayed there for hours. Hours of searching and digging and sighing and disappointment.

_It's gone, _Elsa kept telling herself, over and over and over again so that it would sink into her brain. _It's gone, just get over it. There's nothing left for you to do. _

It wasn't until Elsa noticed that hint of purple gracing the sky, however—the mark of an approaching sunset—that she finally decided to throw in the towel. She'd promised Anna she'd be back before dark, and if she were to keep that promise, she simply couldn't afford to waste any more time on this fruitless search.

"Olaf…" began Elsa carefully, watching as the snowman attempted unsuccessfully to climb a pine tree in order to get a better view, "I think we should probably just give it a rest, now. It's time to go back."

"Back to Arendelle?" asked Olaf, not fully understanding the meaning of this statement, "But wouldn't that just be a waste of time? We'd have to ride all the way back here _tomorrow, _and that would just take too long!"

"Well, about that…" the queen started, smiling a bit guiltily about dragging him all the way down here for nothing, "I think we should just leave the crown here."

"Why here? Didn't you want to bring it back with you?"

"Well, I _did_. But by the looks of it, I very highly doubt that'll happen."

"How come?"

Elsa sighed, shaking her head slowly. "We've been searching for hours, Olaf. If we haven't found it yet, we probably won't find it ever. Let's not waste anymore time attempting the impossible. I won't find the crown… I realize that, and of course it upsets me. But there's just nothing else we can do."

"What? Sure there is!" argued Olaf, optimistic as ever, "We can't give up! What would Anna say? I'm sure we're just one snow pile away from finding it!"

"Yes, well… you _did_ say that about fifty times today, and it hasn't been true once, so I hope you can understand why I'm a bit skeptical."

"Trust me, Elsa! We'll find it in no time!"

"I know you think that, Olaf, but—"

"And it'll probably be even better than you remember it! You can take it back to Arendelle, put it on in front of everyone, and the whole town will cheer."

"That sounds lovely, but it's just that—"

"Ooh, ooh, ooh! I just had an idea! What if, once you have your crown, you can use your ice powers to make an exact replica, and then you can give it to… me! We'll be twins!"

"Look, Olaf…"

"YES! I always wanted to be a twin! The snow king and queen, working to protect Arendelle with our snow-ness! How does that sound to you? We can go around and—"

"Olaf!" Elsa suddenly yelled in exasperation, noticing just how fast that purple in the sky was growing, "I'm sorry, but that can't happen. I really don't think we're going to be able to find the crown this time. I know what you're going to say—that giving up is bad, and everything—and believe me when I tell you that I completely agree! But the thing is… people need to be realistic, sometimes, and understand when what they want just isn't going to happen. I don't mean to sound pessimistic, but it's just the way the world is, sometimes."

"But Elsa," moaned Olaf, suddenly looking a whole lot less cheerful, his eyes growing wide and sad, "Anna told me that you _really _wanted this crown back."

"I did," she said softly, her heart breaking about being the one to deliver this crushing life-lesson, "But not everything that we want in life is going to happen. It's better to learn that now, rather than lat—"

BOOM!

There was a sudden loud crash, and both Olaf and Elsa were thrown off balance when the ground shook beneath them, much like an earthquake. In an instant, the conversation they'd just been having sizzled and died between their lips, leaving room for something a bit more important.

"Oof," began the snowman as his body fell off his legs, "I think I just broke my spine."

"W-What was that?" Elsa stuttered, completely ignoring the fact that Olaf most definitely did not have a spine of which to break, "Was it some kind of avalanch, or… a giant footstep, maybe? Is there anyone out there besides us?"

"Well, no. I don't think so. Not unless you count Marshmallow."

"Marshmallow?" Elsa inquired, "Who's tha—"

She didn't even needed to ask. Suddenly, after a few more hurried banging sounds—each accompanied by its own shaking of the earth—it became very apparent who exactly 'Marshmallow' happened to be.

A monster. _Her _monster. That was Elsa's first thought. A tall, fat, towering figure of plushy snow. One with heavy fore-arms, stubby legs, a broad chest, and a face as sharp and cruel as a skeleton. Currently, he seemed to be rather angry, with large, icy spikes jutting out from all areas of his body. They lined the spine of his back like scales, became deadly claws on his hands, and grew like terrifying fangs from his mouth. His eyes were slanted and glowing evilly, and when he saw the silhouette of two living creatures standing somewhere far off in the distance, he let out a fearsome, tremble-inducing roar.

Marshmallow. What a fitting name for such a creature. It figures that Olaf was the one who came up with it.

"He's really _mean,_" warned Olaf, as the giant began to take slow, heavy steps towards the both of them, "He really is. We should get out of here. I'll distract him, you run!"

"No, Olaf," Elsa began as the snowman tried to rush forward, stopping him by placing a gentle hand on his head, "You don't need to do this for me... I'm not afraid. I'm the one who _made_ Marshmallow, so logic states that I should be able to defeat him on my own."

"If you made him, you can control him, right?" Olaf asked innocently, staring at the only other member of his species with wide, curious eyes, "Can't you just make him act nice?"

"No more than I can make you act mean," answered Elsa, shaking her head, "He's obviously gotten out of my control, started acting on his own, but I'm still more powerful than he will ever be. I can stop him. Destroy him, if that's what it takes."

At this, Olaf's expression became a mix of shock and amazement.

"Marshmallow better watch out, then," he muttered, more to himself than anything, "Queen Elsa is coming."

Smirking slightly at the introduction, Elsa readied herself for battle with the creature, bending her knees and angling her ankles in just the right way to allow herself to move quickly out of the way if need be. She outstretched one hand, preparing to strike, and kept her other bent near her head for concentration. All in all, Elsa knew she must've looked exactly like she did the day she fought the Duke of Westleton's men. Strong, fearless, determined… and monstrous. But it was different this time. Or at least she hoped. This time, she wasn't fighting living, breathing men with families and complex personalities and feelings. She was only fighting a blank-souled, blood-thirsty snowcreature that she'd created from her very own fear and self-hatred. Surely destroying him wouldn't be such a bad thing. Surely no one would actually _blame _her for it.

"He's right in front of us, now," Olaf remarked after a while, as if Elsa wasn't completely aware of this herself, "What is he doing? He's leaning down towards you! Aren't you going to attack him? Do you know how to attack?"

Elsa did, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. She had assumed that the creature—Marshmallow, his name was—would be the one to strike first. The one to initiate the battle. She had not expected him to come this close to her and yet not throw a single punch her way. Wasn't he supposed to be violent and crazed, guarding this mountain as fiercely as he was programmed to do, yet now completely out of her control? She thought so, but he wasn't doing anything overly aggressive, at the moment, and conscious refused to let her be the one to strike first. Good people fought only in self-defense, never in aggression.

"Elsa!" Olaf shouted again, now tugging at the hem of her dress, "Elsa, because I love you, I really insist that you run! Look how close he is! He's even starting to hold out his hand, now! What could he want?"

"Olaf, I…"

Elsa couldn't finish her sentence, and so she just let her voice trail off, unsure of what she had even wanted to say in the first place. All she knew that there was something very not-aggressive about the way Marshmallow was leaning down towards her. In fact, his posture made it seem more like an admiring bow than an attack pose. He was leaning carefully on one knee, slowly lowering his head, and in an instant, his shining blue-white eyes met her own.

Elsa was speechless at the intensity of them. The life that swam so firmly within. Marshmallow, however, appeared not to be.

"Mamma," he said simply, in that deep, grumbling voice of his. The icy spikes—which moments before, had jutted from his skin in every which direction—now sank back within him, leaving his surface soft and smooth as always. The anger dissipated from his expression, replaced by something Elsa knew not of, and before she could even try to make sense of the situation, something very odd happened. The giant reached forth his huge hand, held it behind Elsa's back, and pushed her towards his chest. She was terrified for a moment—completely bewildered by what was happening—but then the truth struck her, and again all words seemed to fail her tongue.

She had always been uncomfortable with hugs to begin with. But to get one from a giant ice monster near the peak of a mountain during a vibrant sunset? Well, that brought things to an entirely new level.

"Elsa!" Olaf interjected suddenly, his voice muffled and his body out-of-view due to Marshmallow's large, muscled arm, "Look, he has your crown on your head! I told you we'd find it!"

Elsa, at the moment, was in no condition to look, but she decided to take the smaller snowman's word for it. Her _crown? _On this giant's _head_? Now, what on earth was that doing there?

"Urm, hi Marshmallow," Elsa began in discomfort, trying to persuade the snow monster to release her, "I… um… haven't seen you in a while. How's life on the mountain been treating you?"

Marshmallow pulled away, and this time Elsa could clearly see her gold-incrusted, power-representing crown resting delicately on his balloon of a head. It was a simple thing, having only a single topaz gem for decoration, and it looked quite out of place sitting on top of this oaf of a snowman. Yet, seeing it there was almost endearing, in a way.

"Me _missed _you!" the monster declared like a rumbling giant, the childlike innocence in his voice somehow clear despite even the gruffness and deep pitch of his vocal chords, "Me was _looking _everywhere!"

"You looked for me?" Elsa asked, a tad surprised, "Why?"

"Me fell down cliff, and when me climbed back up, you was gone. I _told_ them to leave you alone! I fought them to make them go away! But they didn't! They got you! I WILL KILL THEM!"

At once, his tone of naivety vanished, and was instantly replaced by that of anger and savagery. The icy spikes shot out of his skin like claws on a cat.

"Woah, woah there," Elsa called to him, gesturing her arms in a specific way to help him relax, "Calm down. Don't get upset. I took care of those men. Everything is alright now. Everything is fine."

The way she talked… it was as if she was addressing a small child. Addressing _her _small child. And Marshmallow seemed content to receive it that way. The spikes shrank back down into his skin, and Elsa felt a smile beginning to fight off her serious expression as she watched the giant plop himself onto the ground in front of her, a cloud of snow-dust shooting up into the air. She was about to ask him more questions about what he'd been doing all the time she was gone, but then her eyes drifted subconsciously to Olaf standing dumbstruck besides her, and she forced herself to remember her original goal.

"Is—um—is that my crown, Marshmallow?"

Slowly, the creature nodded. He waited for her to continue.

"Where did you get it?"

"Me found it in ice castle. Me picked it up. Me put it on."

"Uh, yes," began Elsa, bewildered and curious, "Why's that?"

He just stared blankly at her for a few moments, as if he didn't even know himself.

"It's alright," she reassured him, "You can tell me. I'm not angry or anything, I just want to know."

The giant nodded and then opened his mouth to respond.

"Me thought it made me look pretty."

Elsa's eyes widened at this statement. Certainly, she had not expected it.

"Uh, excuse me?" she asked, wanting to make sure she heard correctly, "What did you say?"

"Me wanted to be a Snow Queen, too. Me wanted to wear crown."

Very slowly, very curiously, Elsa nodded.

"I _guess_ that makes sense," she told him, "I guess I can understand that. Everyone wants to be pretty at one point or another. There's nothing wrong with that."

Marshmallow nodded, and soon there was a thick, palpable silence spreading between them all. Elsa used that time to flick her eyes from one face to another, observing her two snowy creations as if they were strange pieces of artwork found hanging in a museum. They were her two 'children,' if you could call them that. She still wasn't sure if she wanted to, though. She wasn't quite sure of anything just yet.

"So… Marshmallow," she began, "What have you been doing all this time? Besides searching for me, I mean. Where have you been staying?"

The snowman just blinked at her.

"Me staying?"

"Where do you sleep for the night?"

"Sleep?"

Oh, that was right. Snowmen didn't sleep. That must have made things even _more_ boring for him, then, considering he couldn't even waste away the empty hours of darkness with some pleasant dreams. It made her a bit sad, actually. Sure, maybe Marshmallow had tried to attack Anna and Olaf without her permission, but that didn't make him a bad guy, did it? Maybe he had even thought he was doing right. Who could tell?

"Have you been spending all your time in my ice castle, then?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes almost ashamed.

"Well that's no place to live," Elsa started, making up her mind, "It's too lonely in there. Would you, maybe, want to come back to Arend—"

"ELSA!" hissed Olaf, mid-sentence, "I know you have good intentions, but in case you've forgotten, we are dealing with a _monster_ here!"

Monster. Elsa had been labeled by that term before, too. She knew how it felt to be deemed something so terrible, so awful, so unforgivable that everyone felt that you were better off dead than alive, even if they knew not a thing about who you really were. She knew how it felt to be outcasted. Was it possible that Marshmallow was in the same situation as she herself had been no less than a few weeks ago? Was he just misunderstood due to his intimidating appearance and abilities?

Maybe so, maybe not, but she wasn't going to take the chance of leaving an innocent being to suffer all eternity living alone on the mountain tops. She wasn't going to be her father, and let her own 'child'—or so he called himself—be isolated from society simply because of the differences that he could not control. She wasn't going to be everything that she herself feared and despised. She was better than that, and Marshmallow deserved more.

"That's no monster, that's your brother!" Elsa whispered to Olaf the way a mother might reprimand a child, and then she turned to the larger snowman of the two, still looking down at her with his wide, needy eyes.

"Marshmallow," she repeated, "Do you want to come and live in Arendelle with me?"

The response was instantaneous. And completely overwhelming.

"RRRRRAAAAAWWWWWRRRRR!"

At first, Elsa thought he was roaring at her. As if he were angry about something she'd done or said. But sometime during the five minutes in which her body was bouncing up and down on the snowy peaks—due to Marshmallow's brash, excited movements that shook the ground like a trampoline—she felt herself being lifted into the air and placed, ever gently, onto his shoulder.

"Me going to live with Mamma!" screamed Marshmallow, his voice now booming with joy and laughter, sounding almost like a low-pitched version of a little girl's giggle, "Me going to Arendelle!"

"Do you think he wants to come?" Olaf asked cluelessly as he, too, was lifted onto his shoulder.

"Yes, Olaf," replied Elsa patiently, "I think so."

At this, a huge grin broke across Olaf's face, even bigger than his normal one.

"Then this means… I finally have a brother! Oh my gosh, I've always wanted one! I mean, at least until five seconds ago! YAY! This is going to be the best thing EVER!"

Hearing his words, the Queen allowed an expression of complete warmth to spread slowly across her face.

"Yes," she said, "I suppose so."

…

It was during that very interesting, very time-consuming conversation that the sun seemed to slip down without any of their noticing, and soon Elsa was riding on Marshmallow's shoulders as the surrounding darkness grew thicker and thicker around them.

"I guess it's too late to go back, now," Elsa had yawned, stretching her arms in that very-unladylike way that she was sure her parents wouldn't have approved of, "We can spend the night in my ice-castle, then. Anna will just have to survive one more day of ruling Arendelle without me. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Olaf had nodded, Marshmallow had too, and soon he was carrying the two of them towards the sharp, icy structure in the distance. Far away, at the moment, but still the most prominent thing on the mountain by far.

It was then, waiting patiently as she was carried to her good night's rest, that Elsa allowed her thoughts to drift.

Olaf and Marshmallow. They were two very, very different snowmen… and yet, she had created them both. It was so odd, actually. It was so odd.

She remembered the way she had felt. Felt during that moment in which she had first created life in the form of a talking, feeling ball of snow. She had been… exhilarated, really. At the highest possible point in her life. She felt wild, and free, and so, so happy. And Olaf… he was what had come out of it. She hadn't even _realized_ she had given him life, she was just too thrilled to notice.

Maybe that was why Olaf was always so cheery all the time, though. Just like she had tended to create so many beautiful creations in her freedom, and so many spikes and rough edges while trapped in fear, Olaf was just another creature based solely off of her emotions. She had created him with a part of her powers—a part of her very _soul_—during the moment where she was at her happiest. All she'd had to do was take some of that excess joy spilling from her veins, accidentally dump it into a concentrated bit of her powers, and BAM! A snowman. One that talked and walked and smiled like nobody's business. One hell of a happy snowman. That's what Olaf was. He was her joy.

And now… Marshmallow. Marshmallow with his flaring temper and intimidating appearance and his lonely, child-like attitude. What was that all about?

She had been scared, when she made him. Scared and angry and so, so confused. She had thrown out some accidental spurt of ice—a part of her had known she'd hit Anna, despite how hard she tried to deny it away—and had 'saved' the girl in the only way she knew how. Shutting her out.

That was Marshmallow's job from the very begging. To protect Elsa's isolation, to keep her sad and lonely and free for the good of the world, and to do it with no hesitations. Marshmallow was made from all of Elsa's worst parts, in a way, which was why he had acted the way he did.

As Anna had told her, Marshmallow had no sooner thrown her little rescue group out of the castle than he had attacked them, pushing them off a cliff in all his mighty rage—and deep down, Elsa thought—his burning fear. Now, alone on the mountains for a few weeks, Marshmallow was practicing the feeling of loneliness Elsa had had when she created him, not to mention her general confusion about what was going on.

So, as a conclusion, Olaf represented the happy parts of herself, while Marshmallow represented the depressed parts, right?

If only things were that simple.

For some reason, Olaf had turned out to be a very sympathetic, caring individual. He was as friendly and ever, and he especially loved Anna with all of his heart. The thing was, though… in terms of the queen's theory, that didn't make much sense. When Elsa had created him, she hadn't been thinking much about anybody else at _all_, and that had included Anna. She'd been being selfish, for practically the first time in her life, and she had loved it all the way. She hadn't care about all those other people she'd left behind, she'd only cared about her _own_ powers and freedom and joy, and she had even expressed that with an entire musical number, for god sakes! So what was it with Olaf that made him so concerned about others? Certainly, she hadn't been looking for company at the time that she'd created him. Was it something else? Had he… somehow developed a personality of his _own?_

But it wasn't just him. Marshmallow, fearsome and defensive as he once was, was now acting as innocent and eager-to-please as a child. Back on that mountain, shouting at Anna to leave her alone, Elsa had felt anything but innocent, and she certainly hadn't been trying to _please_ Anna by kicking her out. So, what she wanted to know, was what had changed within Marshmallow during her separation from him? Was this new behavior just another part of her, of her powers, that she hadn't noticed before, or was it something else entirely? She had absolutely no idea, it just made no logical sense.

It seemed, though, that even without logic, Elsa would just have to accept it. She had, somehow, created two unique, self-thinking beings just with a whip of her hand and a surge of her own emotions. And she had absolutely no idea how.

Still, Elsa couldn't say she was _entirely_ surprised. The moment she had seen them, the queen had known that there was something different about them. About the way they existed. There just wasn't that 'string' she was used to having. That beautiful, horrible string.

The string was something that Elsa had known of—or, more accurately, felt—from the very beginning of her powers. It had been there as a mere toddler, when she had marched around the house shooting giant snowflakes from the palms of her hands. It had been there as a mere child, when she had created a dragon and a miniature village of ice-people for Anna to play with. But it was not there now. At least, not with Olaf and Marshmallow.

The string was her control. The part of herself—buried so deep inside her soul, so completely immovable, that even an attempt to uproot it might risk a deathly rupture—that connected _herself_ to her creations. It was always there, subtle enough to be thrown towards the back of her mind, yet a little too prominent to be forgotten completely. A little too prominent.

When she had first created Marshmallow, he'd had that string attached to him just the same as any other. What Elsa had wanted from him—to remove Anna and her nosy friends from her castle—Marshmallow had not hesitated to do. He couldn't have, because he hadn't been 'Marshmallow' at all. Just an extension of herself, really. A piece of her soul using her powers to create a physical form of which to fill. The string kept his mind attached to her own, and whatever he wanted, he had no choice or desire but to obey. He was only a puppet, and she was his master.

But somewhere along the line—Elsa wasn't quite sure where or why, but she knew it had something to do with her overwhelming fear and anxiousity—the string between them had just snapped. Or maybe she had subconsciously cut it, she really didn't know. The part of her that had fed into him her commands, that had made him only another piece of her own soul, had broken, and it was filled in by something else. By a personality.

At first, Marshmallow's personality had been one that mocked Elsa's mood at the time of which he was created. Defensive and angry and lonely, and secretly, a bit scared. That was made more-than-clear by the fight he had with Anna, which Elsa would never have deemed acceptable had she still been the one controlling him at the point. It seemed that for all the time he was left up here alone, however, he had been developing a unique personality of his own. The one that seemed so innocent and childlike, yet still bursting with that unhealthy temper. This was the part that confused her the most. The fact that he had somehow created his _own_ personality, the way a child might do during times of toddlerhood. He was only a figment of her powers, a pointless extension of herself. He wasn't supposed to have a soul, have thoughts, have feelings of his own. But it seemed he had found some, and that just wasn't right. Wasn't natural.

Only gods could do such a thing as to create life from absolutely nothing, and the thought did not do anything to soothe her already aching sense of difference from the rest of her kind.

With Olaf, things had been a little different, but not entirely. She had just been so excited and joyful and free when she had created the little guy—so caught up in all her bubbling emotions—that she had made him with only a tiny swirl of her hand, the smallest flick of her powers. She had moved on from him so quickly, so intent on doing more, that she hadn't even _noticed_ the string that had formed. Hadn't even noticed the indication that she had subconsciously created another one of those extensions of herself, another false copy of life. She had severed the string without even realizing it, and once little Olaf had come to life, he had waddled away without her noticing. She couldn't have noticed, as the string was gone. His mind was his own, and by working towards Anna's cause, he had proved that.

The idea that she now had two 'snow children' was a bit of a discomfort, to be honest, but she knew she'd never dare do anything to soil it. Back before she had developed the ability to cut her strings, all mimicries of life that she created seemed to matter none at all. She remembered the way she had once made that one specific dragon for Anna as a child, and neither had batted an eye when she had took a sword to its belly. Or when the ice-village, which were having a party in their honor, melted away from the heat of the sun. It hadn't mattered, really, as the string had still been as strong as ever, there. The things Elsa made weren't really alive, and so they couldn't really be dead, either. They were just as much a part of Elsa as, say, a poem she wrote or a picture she drew. A _representation _of her soul, but nothing more. Beautiful as they always were, they did not have souls of their own, so destroying them meant nothing. It was only energy she was destroying. And as she had learned from her tutor, energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Only changed into different forms. The ice people weren't gone forever, they had just been transformed into snowflakes. There was no death, there was no life, just recycling.

And yet… there was something about Olaf and Marshmallow that told her that killing them off would be different. They weren't just parts of her, anymore. They were individuals. Surely, if she wanted to, she'd be able to tear them down and build them again in a snap of her fingers. They'd be exact copies of themselves down to the shape of their snowy toes, but in the end, it wouldn't really be the same at all. The memories, the feelings, the thoughts, all the things that had made them alive to begin with, would be gone. Killing them, destroying those wonderful possessions of theirs, would be equal to killing any random human being on the planet. They may have started out as only ice, but now they had become something more, and they were people just the same as anybody else in the world.

"We're here, Elsa!" Olaf suddenly broke out, snapping the queen out of her world of thought.

"Huh?" she began, struggling to replant herself into the soil of reality, "Where?"

"At the palace. For you to sleep, _remember_?"

Oh yes, sleep. The word had been so foreign to her, lately, she barely recognized it anymore. Sleep would be good. She needed some rest to think things over.

Marshmallow gently lowered her to the palace steps, and just as she was about to descend them, she turned around to face her creations.

"I take it that you two won't be sleeping, like usual," Elsa remarked, remembering the odd way Olaf never seemed to be anything other than wide-awake, "So why don't you too just stay together and enjoy each other's company? Play nice, got it?"

Both nodded obediently.

"Great," she said, attempting to stifle her suddenly yawn. "Good night, then. Enjoy yourselves."

Then she went inside, summoned up a plushy, snow bed in an empty chamber, and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

…

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, Elsa! The sun's up, it's time to go!"

Elsa squinted her eyes, and as the light entered the slits between her eyelids and burned her pupils, she flinched away.

"Ugh, Anna… _please_," she groaned, still lost in her dream world, "It's so early, I can't play with you yet. I bet all of Arendelle is still sleeping…"

"Anna? What are you talking about? She's not here!"

At these words, Elsa allowed herself to awaken fully, still flinching slightly at the light.

"Olaf? What are—?" She cut herself off mid-question. The events of last night suddenly rushed forth into her brain.

"Oh yeah," she murmured, "I'm... still in the castle. We should set off home soon, then. I was supposed to be back yesterday, Anna must be worried sick."

Ten minutes later, Elsa was outside and dressed, saddling herself onto her still-freezing horse. Every inch of his fur now covered brushed in snow and tiny ice-particles, Flame's name was as ironic as ever.

"NO!" thundered Marshmallow suddenly from somewhere behind her, making the queen nearly jump out of her skin, "Mamma don't ride horse. Me give you lift. Get there quicker."

"That's a kind gesture," Elsa began, rubbing the back of her neck in sheepish decline, "But I need to get Flame home, too, and I doubt he'll know the way unless I lead him."

Marshmallow solved this problem easily by picking up the terrified horse and shoving him forcefully onto his shoulder. Ten minutes later, Elsa and Olaf had joined him, and all three of them waited in patience as Marshmallow thundered through the snowy path back to Arendelle. Elsa made a mental note to herself to make the giant his own snow-cloud once they got to a low enough elevation. Down there, away from the mountains, summer was going as thick and hot as ever, and even Olaf had needed an upgrade from his little flurry after a little while.

"How was last night?" Elsa asked the smaller snowman during their ride, trying to make pleasant conversation.

"Amazing!" answered Olaf, showing off that wide, toothless smile of his, "Me and Marshmallow had some great brotherly-bonding time! We talked about all sorts of things… like snow, and ice, and _you_, and Anna, and snow, and cold, and _you_… Oh, and I told him about the crown!"

"The crown?" Elsa asked, having almost completely forgotten, "What of it?"

"I told him that you were looking for it," Olaf explained, "He promised to give it back."

"Me did," mumbled Marshmallow suddenly, still focusing on stumbling though the woods, "Mamma can has crown back. Me not real snow queen."

He turned his head ever slightly in her direction, and as her icy blue eyes met his own, she could've sworn she saw a bit of sadness in them. Of disappointment and regret and despair. Kind as she was, Elsa felt her heart rip in two, and she spoke next with a new amount of sympathy surging through her frozen veins.

"Actually, Marshmallow... I think you can keep the crown, if you like."

"What?" began Olaf, "But I thought—"

"It's not a big deal, Olaf," Elsa interrupted, "I can make my own out of ice. Marshmallow can keep wearing that one, if he really wants to. He can be the _other_ snow queen."

At this, Marshmallow's face split into a huge, lopsided grin.

"Thank you," he murmured, and then fell silent as chatty Olaf once again took reins of the conversation.

The little guy continued on and on about all the things he and the other snow queen did last night, and suddenly, Elsa felt a warm sprout of affection for him building up near the center of her chest. A warm sprout of affection for _both_ of them, as a matter-of-fact.

Even with the string gone, even with the separation of their individual souls, there was still a connection between her and her creations. Still a bond that was stronger than one might expect to find in friends, in siblings, even in parents. It was a connection that existed between souls, that transmitted feelings from heart to heart, that strung together thoughts between minds as if they were one.

Olaf, the way he called her the 'nicest, warmest person ever' and had been so happy to accompany her on this journey. Marshmallow, the way he referred to her as 'Mamma' and had spent weeks searching for her. They both cared about the queen on a depth even deeper than she could've ever imagine. She had no doubt that they'd give their lives for her without even a second thought, just the same as she would for Anna. Even without the string… there was something between her and her 'children' that bound them so strongly together. She didn't know what, she didn't know why, but she loved it. She loved it all the same.

"I can see Arendelle in the distance!" Olaf shouted suddenly after about a half-hour of travel time, breaking Elsa out of her thoughts once more, "I see it!"

"Good," sighed Elsa with relief, "Anna will be waiting for me. I bet she'll love Marshmallow. You know, once she gets over the fact that he tried to kill her."

Marshmallow mumbled an apology, and Elsa grinned.

"Save it for my sister."

He nodded, causing the queen to grip hard onto his shoulder to stay on, and soon there was a complacent silence. She did not hesitate to break it.

"Anna was so nervous before—about ruling as the temporary queen, I mean—but I bet she did fine."

Olaf nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Anna's great!"

"She sure is," Elsa said with a small smile, "She sure is."

Ten minutes later, the three of them arrived at the kingdom of Arendelle, only to be met with a… _very_ surprising sight.

"Elsa!" Anna shouted as soon as she saw her sister, her hair a tornado of red behind her, "Elsa, thank god you're here!"

She had streaks of black smut on her face, and she paid little to no attention to the giant snow monster who stood right in front of her. Elsa would've found this suspicious, had her attention not been focused elsewhere.

"You set the castle of _fire_?" Elsa gasped, "I thought you were just joking about that! How is it even possible? The building is made of _stone!" _

"I don't even _know_!" screamed Anna, panic in her eyes, "But you need to help me put it out!"

For a moment the queen continued to be shocked and terrified. Then the reality of what her powers could do set in, and she smiled proudly to herself. She sighed in false exasperation, stuck out a hand, and summonsed a patch of snow above her palm.

"Olaf, Marshmallow, come on and help me fix this."

Obedient, they followed her towards the castle. From behind, Elsa could've sworn she heard Anna whisper something in the very softest breath of her lungs.

"I _told_ you that I wouldn't make a good ruler."

"Yeah," muttered the true queen, "Maybe that wasn't one of my best ideas…"

But it didn't matter, anymore. With Elsa's powers stemming from within her, and Olaf and Marshmallow standing faithfully by her side, a little fire was nothing. She may not have understood her powers completely—she may never figure them out for the rest of her life—but what she _did _know, was that they were limitless. _She_ was limitless, and there was nothing anybody could do to stop her.

Limitless. Whether that was a good thing or not, that was what she was, and she would just have to learn to get used to it.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, chapter's over! I really hope you liked it, and that you followed me when I explained Elsa's powers. I know I sort of left more questions open than closed, but that was the point. I'll try and go a lot more in-depth in the <strong>**sequel, so you'll all learn more then. **

**And, in case you noticed, I wrote the thing with Marshmallow and the crown because of the little scene after the credits in Frozen. If you didn't see it yet, no worries, I missed it at first, too. Just type in 'Marshmallow scene' in youtube, and I'm sure I'll bring you to it. It's only about ten seconds, but I found it cute anyway :). **

**Now... and it pains me to say this... there is officially only ONE chapter left! I'm going to try my very hardest to get it to you as fast as I can (mostly because I want to finish it before finals) but I also want to make it a good one, so I might spend more time than usual fixing it up. Luckily, though, I'm really excited to write this chapter. And when I'm excited, I tend to write a LOT faster. See you all really soon! Don't forget to review :D**


	14. The Truth

**Well, everyone... here it is. The final chapter. Like I promised, this is the chapter in which Elsa_ finally_ tells Anna all about her secret past. I've been working on it tirelessly for days now, but I'm still not completely satisfied with it. Still, I think it's time for you all to take a look, and I really hope you like it! I'll fix it up in a day or so, I just can't stop myself from posting it now.**

**Btw, sorry for this, but the majority of this chapter is just dialogue between the sisters. I tried to make it interesting, but it's still mostly dialogue, so I'm hoping you won't get too bored of it. This was just how the whole scene played out in my head, and so I wrote it the way I imagined it, even if it wasn't in the most captivating way. Again, I hope you overlook that and enjoy this chapter anyway! I'll let you all get to reading, now. I'll write a longer note near the bottom to say what I need to say. **

* * *

><p>The flames danced and flickered in the fireplace, painting everything in the room—including the forms of two young women splayed out comfortably on the embroidered cushions—with an array of lights and shadows. Save for the full moon contrasting sharply against the night sky, nothing but darkness shown through the foggy windows of the castle, and with the general lateness of the hour, both women struggled to keep themselves from drifting past the sweet border of unconsciousness.<p>

Being that their little kingdom was dealing with its most ferosious snowstorm of the winter, the redheaded woman huddled herself up in the protection of a woven blanket, trying hopelessly to guard herself against the dry, icy winds that slowly and effectively crept their way through the edges of the window. They were seeping their way not only into the castle's stone walls, but into the girl's very soul, and she was positive that there was not an ounce of warmth left in her entire being. Or, at least, it seemed that way.

"Ugh, Elsa!" she moaned, shivering as an especially cold burst of air found its way inside her blanket. "Can't you just stop this already? I'm freezing!"

At this, the blond woman laughed. It was a sound as warm and lively as the fire itself, and despite the fact that this was the exact opposite of what anyone would expect, it almost seemed to _add_ some heat to the room. Just by laughing, she was blending the bitter chill of the atmosphere with the glowing light of her heart, and in the redhead's opinion, that was enough. That was always enough.

"I've told you this so many times before, Anna," the queen replied, rolling her eyes in amusement, "None of this is my doing. Sometimes Mother Nature just feels like making it cold, and when she does, there's nothing I can do about it. If you have complaints, you're just going to have to bring them to her yourself, or else you're out of luck. I'm not the only one who can make it snow, you know."

Anna moaned again, stretching out on the fat, plushy armchair as if it were her own bed.

"Well don't you have, like—oh, I don't know—a connection with it, or something? Can't you just tell it to stop falling?"

Elsa laughed again, brightening up her entire face.

"Oh sure, Anna. I'll just send a letter to Mother Nature asking her to join me for a cup of tea. Once I get in good with her, I'll just politely mention that she should probably skip winter this year, because my little sister is getting tired of being cold all the time."

At this, Anna turned her head sideways to glare suspiciously at Elsa, who was now sitting on her knees at the foot of Anna's chair. Somehow, Anna thought, she even made _that_ look graceful.

"I get the feeling you're being sarcastic with me," she said slowly, as if accusing her of some heinous and mysterious crime.

"You sure are a receptive one," Elsa replied with a sly grin, amusement flickering in her eyes.

"Stop it!" Giggling slightly, Anna threw a playful punch onto her sister's shoulder. But then the woman paused for a moment, as if rethinking the entire situation, and decided to retract the statement.

"Actually... don't stop. It makes me feel more like your sister when we banter like this. I like that."

Very slowly, Elsa nodded. "Me too. We've grown a lot in the past year."

"More than a year," Anna added. She gestured towards the snow-covered windowsill. "Your coronation was in the summer, and its _definitely_ not summer anymore."

Elsa simply shrugged at this, throwing the comment aside. "Not that it matters to me. I can't feel temperatures, regardless. It could be a thousand degrees outside and I'd still wear a cloak just because I felt like it."

Anna laughed at the thought of her sister bundled up in sweltering heat, and she subconsciously reached out a hand to touch Elsa on the arm. When her fingertips brushed the woman's skin, however, she pulled away immediately.

"Oh my gosh... how is it that you're this cold even next to a _fire_?!"

"What did you expect?" giggled the woman, "Did I not just finish telling you that heat has no affect on me?"

Her eyes skimmed the room until they fell upon the fire in question, cracking quietly to itself, and she watched it dance in the air with mild interest. Almost a tinge of curiosity.

"It can't touch me," Elsa continued, mind now beginning to drift from the original topic, "It can't burn me. It can't hurt me. In fact, it can't do _anything_ to me. Nothing at all."

Suddenly, a very curious idea struck Elsa's mind, and it spread a look of mischief across her pale face. Usually, she wouldn't even think about acting upon such a childish desire—such a stupid, careless impulse—but there was just something about Anna's presence that always made her feel so... so... free. Like a child herself. She couldn't help it, that was just the effect the girl had on her. The effect she'd always had.

"What are you doing?" Anna asked as Elsa slowly got up from her spot on the carpet, pulling herself over to the flickering red and orange near the wall. "The fire hasn't gone out yet, we don't need to relight it."

"No, that's not it," said the woman, her entire body now mere inches away from the swallowing heat of the flame. "I'm not trying to relight it. Just... watch this." And with that short statement, with that pathetic attempt at a warning, she did not hesitate to dive her dainty, uncovered hand into the pit of the fire.

"Elsa!" Anna gasped, completely stunned and openly terrified, "Don't _do_ that!"

Elsa would've laughed at the comical expression on the girl's face, had something much more interesting not have just started occurring at that exact moment.

"Look," said the woman calmly, eyes now glued to the intoxicating flicker, "Watch what it does."

Very hastily, stretching herself up from her curled position on the armchair, Anna began to stagger closer to the fire, blanket still draped heavily on her shoulders. She gasped even louder when she got a good glimpse of what her sister was so intently staring at.

"Woah..."

Elsa's hand was shoved deep into the heart of the flames, her pale skin seeming to almost glow in the lighting. Surrounding her, the orange licked her fingertips and spun carelessly around her wrists. It fluttered like an angel and teased like a devil, somehow still beautiful despite all its obvious danger. There was, however, something even _more _strange than the fact that Elsa could touch it without feeling pain. Something even more impossible. Encircling her hand—almost like a faint, twinkling halo—was just the slightest tinge of purple. A deep, dark, captivating purple that mixed and swirled and caressed her palm. Anna gaped at it with an open mouth.

"Strange, isn't it?" Elsa asked, her voice so distant that it was clear she was lost in another world, "I've never done this before, but it appears my ice magic creates a strange reaction when mixed with fire. The effect is... almost pretty."

"Almost pretty?" Anna said with disbelief, "It's beautiful."

'Beautiful' seemed to just about sum it up. The sisters continued to stare at the halo with fascination, faces alight with not only the fire, but with their own inner joy.

"Its so strange," Elsa continued, as if she hadn't heard her, "To do something as dangerous and stupid as this—something that nobody else would ever dream of—and yet... have nothing bad happen as a consequence. I know people are supposed to feel pain from this. I even expected it myself, for a moment. But then I did it, and nothing happened. Nothing at all. My skin feels fine, my nails feel fine, my powers feel fine... it's as if there's no fire there at all. In fact, it feels more like sticking my hand in a waterfall. It's so strange."

Something about the tone in Elsa's voice was very curious, so Anna gazed at her a little more perceptively, trying to take in every little detail of her face. The way her icy blue eyes were staring so intently at the flicker in front of her, the flame reflecting in her irises and creating the most beautiful illusion of movement within them. The way her mouth was ever so slightly agape, completely fascinated with what she could not logically explain. The way she dared not even shake her wrist, as if afraid she'd make one little move and her hold on it would break, the fire burning her forever. Her reaction was just completely out-of-character, it seemed. So odd.

It was then that the thought struck Anna, and it was as shocking and unbelievable as ever.

Elsa was clueless.

Contrary to what the girl had originally assumed, her older sister was not an all-wise, all-knowing being. She was not aware of every single fact in the universe, and in fact, she wasn't even aware of every single fact about _herself_. Her powers were one good example of this. Here Elsa sat—queen though she was, still just another human being like the rest of the people on the planet—living with the fact that for some strange reason, she had been born with mysterious magic. Powers that seemed almost limitless in their ability, and were nearly impossible to control. Elsa had been so strong and confident for the last year or two since the incident, everybody had assumed that she'd known everything about herself. But... did she really?

Of _course_ Elsa was acting so in awe or them! Of course she'd always been a bit afraid! She barely understood more about her abilities than Anna did. She was a complete mystery to herself, the poor thing! Cursed with the fact that she'd never truly know why she was born the way she was, or even if her powers were intentional or not. Forced to live in the shadows, never fully knowing her real identity, or even all her strengths and limitations. Poor Elsa, it must've been so frustrating for her, to always be in the dark like that! Why hadn't Anna noticed this earlier? How had she been so ignorant? Suddenly, the girl was struck with the feeling that despite the fact that they had been back to being best-friends for more than a year now, she really didn't know her older sister at all. Not in the slightest.

She'd have to find someway to change that.

Anna leaned forward to get a closer look at Elsa's purple-radiating hands, but backed away immediately upon feeling the heat-waves rush and burn onto her cheeks. Unlike Elsa, she wasn't blessed with the ability to be completely impervious to temperature. She couldn't get too close... so she'd just have to observe her sister where it was safe.

"Wait, I want to see!" Anna piped up like a child, destroying her sister's peaceful mindset and tugging at her rolled-up sleeves, "Show me your hands!"

Not giving it much of a thought, Elsa reacted obediently, removing her fingers from the fire and allowing Anna to inspect her palms with interest.

"Wow," she murmured, rubbing her fingers against the smooth, pale surface of her skin, "Not a burn in sight. Your skin is completely_ flawless_. Well, except for... _AHHHHHH_!"

The unexpected shriek was loud and terrified, reverberating around and around in the confines of the room, and for a moment, Elsa was sure her heart had just exploded in her chest.

"Anna!" she yelled, eyes wide and confused, "What's the matter?! Is something wrong?"

In an attempt to muffle the echoing screams—which were sure to wake the castle staff if they continued—Elsa threw her hands over Anna's mouth, feeling her breath quicken in an attempt to regain oxygen. She hoped desperately that the girl wasn't in the mood for biting her hand. Which, for the record, had happened before.

"Mmfph," moaned Anna, struggling to get her sister off of her, "Mggunf."

Trying not to giggle at her muffled words, Elsa slowly withdrew her hand from the girl's mouth, putting up one finger to signal that she was not to shriek anymore. Whatever issue this was, they needed to deal with it _quietly._

"Scars!" Anna screamed again, but this time in a puff of air that was barely louder than a whisper, "The fire gave you white scars all over your skin! Did you know that? They're so pale I didn't see them in the fire, but close up... they look really bad, Elsa! Something much be wrong, we need to take you to the doctor!"

For a moment, Elsa was completely bewildered. She looked down at her palms, confused at the lines of white drawn all across her hands, and then a memory clicked back into place in her brain. She gulped despite herself, and she could've sworn her heart skipped at least a good three beats.

The scars. The scars. The scars were still there.

Stuck within the deepest, dankest parts of her memory—yet as clear as water in an underground spring—was the year in which Elsa turned fourteen. The year she found her first friend in the form of a castle servant, the year that he helped her to see the beauty within herself, the year that they agreed to escape together into the beautiful, snow-peaked mountain tops. It also happened to be the year in which her father discovered these plans, executed the servant, and trapped her in a dungeon for two whole days as punishment.

It had been quite an eventful year, really. And the end of it had been no less shocking. Only a few weeks before January, Elsa had completely changed both her appearance, and her personality. With her formal bun and stuffy dresses, she'd been the perfect soon-to-be queen. The rest of the years to follow certainly hadn't been so interesting, after that...

But, of course, Anna knew none of this.

"Um," Elsa began, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry and her cheeks very flushed, "Actually, um..."

After Elsa had nearly exploded on him—for good reason, of course, considering he'd just murdered Benson—Father had locked her down in her dungeon for what had felt like years to her, her only company being the cruel guard in which he'd instructed to bring her food. She remembered how torturous it had been. Waiting in the dark, quiet, horribly lonely dungeon, and just knowing, deep down, that she had failed. Benson was dead, because even with all her impressive powers, Elsa was only a weak little girl, unable to protect him from the man who had spawned her. She was weak, and her only friend was gone, and for the rest of her life she would only be alone. Only be alone.

It had been so incredibly quiet in that cage, and she had been so incredibly broken, and so she had... done things she wasn't exactly too proud of now. Things that seemed almost insane, almost deranged, when she thought about them with her new, brighter mindset. Back then they had made sense, had even felt _good_ for her, but now she knew better. She really had been so broken back then. So incredibly broken. This was the proof.

"These scars," Anna murmured again, her expression still concerned and horrified, "Oh, Elsa, come on! Get up, we need to bring you to the castle medical staff right now!"

_No_, Elsa thought to herself, her stomach churning, _You don't need to bring me to the medical staff. Because these scars aren't from the fire. I've had them for a lot longer than you know. _

Twist, turn, scratch, burn. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

The cuffs the guards had shoved her into had been tight on her hands. They were attached to the dungeon wall with metal chains, doing their job in making sure that she was not able to use her ice powers, but they had been so very _tight_. Yet she still hadn't complained. Hadn't even minded. She'd just taken her hands and turned and turned them in those cups, letting the jagged metal cut and fray her flawless skin. Letting it draw little red lines across her palm, tear her fingers to bloody bits, burn the back of her knuckles. Thinking back on it now, she really wasn't so sure what the whole point of it had been, but back then she had loved the pain it provided her with. The physical torture that distracted her, if only slightly, from the emotional stab in her heart.

A few days later, Elsa had been escorted back to her room, nearly thrown herself off a balcony, and ended up giving herself a complete personality-change in front of a mirror. She remembered noticing her hands—a sickly, patchy mess of pink and white—and simply closing her fists and fixing them. Watching as lines of ice had crawled throughout the holes in her palms and knotted them together again like stitches, seeming to nearly dissolve into her skin. It had worked almost like a miracle, and it would have astounded her had she not just decided never to use her magic again. In fact, it seemed the only downside had been those pale, barely-noticable scars marking her always-gloved fingers.

But now her fingers weren't gloved, anymore. And in the deep, searching light of the fire, neither could the scars be classified as barely-noticable. Now more than ever did she wished she'd just have let the cuts in her hands bleed themselves dry.

"You don't need to take me to the castle infirmary!" Elsa insisted as Anna began to try and coax her up from the floor, yanking rather hard on her arm considering she was supposed to be injured, "Really, it's fine!"

"But the fire!" Anna insisted, concern etched within every crevice of her face, "It hurt you! C'mon, you need to get those looked at immediately!"

For a moment, an idea struck Elsa, and it brought a flood of relief swooshing through her.

_Yes_, she thought to herself, _let Anna think the fire did it. She'll never guess otherwise, the castle doctor won't know any better, and eventually this whole scar-thing will fade into __obscurity. Everything will be back to normal... back to normal..._

But no.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Anna had finally, _finally, _taken notice of some evidence that would—if thought about closely enough—link her to the truth. And if this wasn't the perfect time to be brave and tell her about her darkened past, Elsa didn't know what was.

Brave. She'd just have to suck it up and be brave. It was time for the truth.

"Actually, Anna," whispered Elsa, her voice far softer than her liking, "This fire didn't give me these scars. I've had them for years."

At this, Anna's eyes widened, and she looked completely shocked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "Why would you have scars?"

Elsa sighed. A long, exasperated, secretly-terrified sigh, and pushed herself up to a standing position. She held out a hand for her sister, staring at her so intently that the girl flinched back in uncertainty.

"Come on. Let's sit down together, somewhere. I have something I need to tell you."

After a handful of curious glances from her sister, and way too many questions than could ever be answered at one time, Elsa finally settled for a spot on the floor very near the edge of the carpet. Anna sat besides her, cross-legged, and looked with wide eyes and innocent curiosity.

Elsa opened her mouth in what felt like slow motion, took a deep breath for such a long stretch of time that her lungs were nearly ready burst in her chest, clenched her fists way-too-tightly at her side in an attempt to calm her aching nerve, and then... and then... and then... nothing. Absolutely nothing. No words came out. She was speechless.

"Elsa?" Anna asked, looking concerned again, "You look even paler than usual! What's wrong?"

Elsa opened her mouth again, failed again, and then turned her head towards the carpeted ground, feeling absolutely sick to her stomach. She had certainly faced more horrifying situations before... but sitting here right now, next to the only person left in the world who she was sure truly loved her, Elsa was absolutely positive that she had never been quite so terrified in all her life. There was just so much to tell. She didn't even know where to begin.

So maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she would just let the ice do the talking for her.

Taking a deep breath, her muscles tight in her arms and back, Elsa conjured up two little girls in the large stretch of space between her and the fireplace. One girl was taller and smiling, with a long, pale braid swinging down her back. The other was short and absolutely bouncing with fascination, hair tied back into two short, adorable pigtails. Both were made completely out of ice, seemingly every detail accounted for.

"That's us!" Anna remarked, staring open-mouthed at the figures who now spoke and moved as if they were alive, yet did not react at all to the two women sitting right in front of them, "Don't get me wrong, this is amazing, but... what are you even doing?"

"I think I'm going to finally open up to you, Anna. Just the way you always wanted. You're going to find out all about my past tonight, and I'm going to use them to show you it all, rather than tell, alright?"

"Oh my gosh, YES!" shouted Anna suddenly, forgetting all about the scars and now nearly as bouncy as the little girl with pigtails, "I've always wanted to know what you did all those years in the castle! Oh wow, I'm so excited!"

Elsa sighed silently. She knew that excitement really wouldn't last long, and already she was dreading the response that came after it. But she couldn't stop now. There was no sense pushing it off for any longer... the truth was inevitable. Anna had proved herself in the past year or so to be much stronger and braver than Elsa had ever given her credit for, and truly she was more than just the 'innocent being' that everyone had labeled her since birth. It was time that she and her sister started facing their pasts, and their futures, together. It was time.

God, Elsa really did hate time. She hated it more than she could say. Even if it was her savior.

For the little 'play' that her ice figures were preforming, Elsa began in the moment that made the most sense for her. The moment in which she had frozen Anna's head as a child. It wasn't too bad of a scene, considering that was one of the few stories that Anna actually _did_ know about, but it didn't stay that easy for long. As Elsa knew it would, it soon escalated far, far beyond what the poor girl could handle with a smiling face.

Anna gasped upon seeing Elsa's dungeon, cried upon entering the mysterious, bloody chamber, and was practically screaming during the entire scene in which the woman was being so brutally tortured. To be fair, Elsa really couldn't blame her. As gruesome as it was, the queen really couldn't help but use her powers to draw out every single detail of every single moment she remembered. The crude terror of the room. The mix of horrible expressions on their parents faces. The writhing, pitiful form of the hanging woman. It was all so much to absorb, Elsa was almost in awe of how well Anna was taking it. At least she hadn't run away like Elsa had the first time. At least she was stronger than that.

Anna got a little better during the pleasant scenes with Benson, a whole _lot_ better when Elsa started to practice her powers with him, and then collapsed into tears as she saw his bruised and bloodied figure behind bars. Later, she was practically hyperventilating as Elsa confronted their father about what he had done. It was only when Anna saw her miniature self walk into the room—interrupting the fight between them and causing younger Elsa to give up her rebellion and finally submit—that Anna seemed to be beyond any expression of emotions. For the rest of the little 'show,' with Elsa talking now and then to narrate her thoughts that couldn't be made clear through the ice actors, Anna just sat completely still. Her eyes nearly bugging out of her head, and her hands tied together tightly in her lap, she just sat there and grit her teeth through it all, too stunned even to cry. Too stunned even to say a word.

It was over sooner than Elsa had expected. It was over. The queen breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and everything was finally calm again. Everything was finally calm.

Except not quite.

"Anna," Elsa whispered as she finished the final scene, "Are you... okay? How are you feeling? Can you take this all in?"

Anna did not respond. She just sat there, shivering like a leaf as she stared off ahead into the fireplace, seemingly hypnotized by its dancing. Her pupils were huge inside her irises, like black-swirling bits of despair, and Elsa couldn't help but feel a pit of guilt beginning to build up in the depths of her stomach. Maybe she hadn't been ready for the truth yet. She was still practically a child, after all... What on earth had Elsa just _done_?

"Oh God, Anna," Elsa whispered, her eyes going soft with the guilt of it all, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"_YOU_?!" demanded Anna suddenly, so loud compared to her previous silence that Elsa was nearly knocked backwards from the volume of it, "_You're_ sorry! HA! Don't make me laugh! You're the last person in the entire _world _who should be sorry, Elsa!"

Her tone held some sort of humor to it, but a deranged sort of humor, and before Elsa could figure out what was going on, the girl had bounded to her feet.

"I know who should be sorry!" she shouted, looking so weak and frail despite the angry mask she wore to shield herself, "I'll show you who should be sorry!"

And then she took off like a stampeding buffalo, the tears all the sudden pouring from her eyes like furious waterfalls, and Elsa sped after her in a heartbeat. Well, whatever happened, there was no turning back now. She'd really done it this time.

Elsa did not know what she expected, but whatever it happened to be, it certainly hadn't been _that. _

Eyes glued to an object in front of her, chest heaving with complete exhaustion, Anna stood facing a translucent, black curtain hanging lifelessly on the wall of a certain hallway. Being made of such expensive material, it was fragile and very thin, softer than a cloud yet easily swayed this way and that with just the smallest puff of air. Elsa hadn't even glanced at the thing in years—she'd almost forgotten it was there at all. Yet here her little sister was anyway. Looking so angry at it, yet so afraid. Looking so broken and confused and torn. So incredibly torn.

In one quick flit of the wrist, one quick surge of impulsive energy, Anna reached forward and tore the black curtain from the wall on which it hung. Tore it and ripped it and shredded it like the truth had torn her soul. Now the flimsy, beautiful covering was gone, and beneath it, Anna stared transfixed at what both filled up and emptied her aching heart. Stared at it as if she were looking at it for the first time. As if she'd never seen those two people in her entire life.

Elsa's little sister stood in front of the official, royal painting of their deceased Mama and Papa. The picture that had hung on that wall, undisturbed, for at least four entire years. Not looked at or touched since the death of the two people it represented. They both looked so happy and peaceful.

But that was all about to change, Elsa saw. Anna was going to make sure of it.

"How could you do that?!" yelled the red-head at the painting, eyes now brimming with a hopeless sort of fury that the blond had never even glimpsed inside of her before, "I loved you, and I trusted you, and how _could _you?!"

"Anna," Elsa whispered pathetically, trying to snap the woman out of her nightmarish trance, "Come on, Anna, calm down. Just calm down for a moment, okay?"

"She was your _daughter_!" Anna continued, completely ignoring her, "Your first daughter, and your heir to the throne, and all she ever wanted was to be good, you know that? She just wanted you to be proud of her! But you wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of _that!" _

"Anna," Elsa repeated, voice softer yet firmer, "You know they can't hear you."

"Do you even have _any _idea how much pain you've caused her? Do you even _care_? It's sick... you know that, don't you? It's sick because Elsa is one of those people whose never done one thing wrong in their entire lives... but still I don't think I've ever heard a sadder story than what she showed me tonight. She didn't deserve any of it! And it's all your fault. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Please... don't talk about this anymore. Please, Anna. I really don't want to hear this."

"Do you even know what you've _done_ to her? As a child she was always so lonely and afraid, but you saw that, didn't you. What you _don't_ know, though, is that even now—even after a year of being loved by the entire kingdom of Arendelle, of ruling successfully and without any mistakes at all with her powers—she still looks in the mirror sometimes and I just... I can _see_ the way she fears herself! Hates herself, even. She thinks I don't notice it, but I do. You don't understand how painful it is. To see a girl as selfless and as wonderful and as brave and as undeniably _perfect_ as she is, and to watch as she looks in the mirror and see's nothing but a monster. And that's your fault. You know it is."

"That's enough, Anna!" Elsa yelled, worry flushing her veins for reasons she didn't quite understand. Her words were loud, but not quite loud enough. Anna continued to shout at the inanimate object in front of her for the unforgivable wrongs it had committed.

"You don't get it, do you? You just don't get it! Elsa is different, I know she is, and her powers can be dangerous... I get that! But you did everything—and I mean _everything_—just completely wrong! You should've worked together with her, to help her learn to use and control her powers, but instead you forced her to be all alone and made her figure it out herself! You should've taught me about the dangers of Elsa's magic, showed me ways to calm her down so that it wouldn't be so bad when she got scared, but instead you erased my memory and tore the two of us apart for years! You should have been nice to Elsa, and shown her that her differences didn't have to define her life, but instead you tortured and killed a living _woman _right in front of her very eyes! SHE WAS ELEVEN! And then... Benson. That was the servants name, but I guess I don't expect you to know that. You should've listened to him, understood that he was what was best for Elsa, allowed him to teach and help her in the ways you never could. But instead you murdered him, too, and that was too much for her. That was just too much!"

Elsa had never heard Anna's voice sound so... cold. Sound so cruel and unforgiving and hateful. She was angry, obviously. More than angry. She was furious. There was a dark, bitter sarcasm biting at every word she spit from her lips, irony dripping like poison from the very tone of her voice, and it left Elsa speechless. She couldn't even protest anymore. She'd just have to sit tight and wait it out until Anna ran out of steam to keep going. Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth.

"Mama, Papa... did you know she tried to kill herself because of you? Did you know that? Well, she did. She almost jumped off a balcony when you executed that servant of hers. He would've saved her from all the pain she was facing, and he could've turned out to be her one true love, even. But now we'll never know, because you've taken away the life she could've spent with him. She was so intent on being together with the servant that she was willing to kill herself to do it. In a way, though... she was trying to escape _you_ in death, too. She was so desperate, that dying was all she could think of. The only way she could get away from your... from your... _oppression_. How does that make you feel, Father? HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL!?"

Softer, louder, softer, louder. Anna's volume of voice fluctuated as fast and as frequently as the crescent moon. It made Elsa a little uneasy, to be honest. The girl was an explosion. Completely and utterly unpredictable. Elsa just hoped that she wasn't being loud enough to wake the entire castle. It seemed that this moment, more than any other moment she had ever experienced, was one that required some delicate, one-on-one, sisterly bonding time. Having guards burst in here in the middle of Anna's rampage was the last thing they needed. Elsa had to deal with this on her own. It was one of the most important requirements of being an older sister.

"You know... I used to think Elsa was this way because of an accident. That you two were only doing what you thought was best by locking her in her room, and that you never meant to break her like this. I never blamed you before because I knew you were scared, and you were confused, and you just didn't know what to do. You tried your best in the only way you knew how. But now? Now I _have_ to blame you. Because you did things, horrible things, that no parents should _ever_ do to a child. Things so... so... _evil_ that you would've had to be insane to think that they were okay! I have to blame you for what happened to Elsa, for what happened to the entire kingdom of Arendelle, because it's all your fault. But I think you must know that, too, by now. It's so obvious. None of this is Elsa's doing. The blame is on you."

Anna's voice was cracking, now. The speech was sure to be over soon. The guards only had to sleep a little bit longer, and then everything would be alright. Elsa would go to Anna and hold her and whisper over and over again into her ear that it was all okay. That it was over, now. And Anna would believe her. Anna _had_ to believe her.

"I just want you to know, if something had happened back then—if you had hurt Elsa so much that she had tried to run off and be free without you—I would've been on _her_ side. Even if she'd just gone completely insane, even if she were freezing things left and right and trying to kill everything in her way, I'd still be on her side. I don't care if you would've grabbed my hand and pulled me back and told me over and over again that she was a monster, I would've pushed away from you and went after her no matter what. And you know why? Because she's my _sister_. She's my sister and I love her more than you could ever imagine. Certainly more than you ever did. You don't understand what it's like. To love someone despite all doubt and reason. Even if they're dangerous or confusing or scary, just loving them because they deserve to be loved. And Elsa deserves that more than anyone. I know it."

Suddenly, despite all she'd already heard, Elsa felt herself beginning to tear up. Oh, Anna. Oh precious, beautiful Anna. She really didn't deserve to have such an amazing creature as her sister. She really didn't deserve to be loved this much. Not her. Not the queen who had nearly killed Anna twice.

"Everyone needs someone that can love them unconditionally. Someone who'll love them despite their faults, and their mistakes, and all the stupid things that they do all the time. Usually it's their parents or someone that take up the role... but obviously, things are different with our family. You loved _me _enough, I think, but not Elsa. Never Elsa. You didn't love her unconditionally, the _world_ didn't love her unconditionally, and you know what? That's fine with me. If no one else will do it, then I'll just do it myself. I'll be the one to take up that role. I'll support her in every decision she makes, and help stop her when she's only hurting herself, and put her every need above my own... just because Elsa deserves someone like that more than anyone. I've never met a girl more selfless, and if she doesn't think of herself, who will? It should've been you, but it's not. So I'll just have to be me. And you know what? I'm glad. Being the only one to love Elsa more than anything else in the world is an honor! I'm so, so proud to get to be that person. Because Elsa is my sister, and even if you don't see it, the most innocent person alive."

She? Innocent? Elsa highly doubted that statement... and yet, there was also something quite beautiful about the word. Something that emerged from her chest as a warm, tingling sensation, and spread slowly-yet-effectively throughout the rest of her body. In her mind, Anna had always been the innocent one... but in Anna's mind, it had always been Elsa. What wonderful irony. Truly, this was the meaning of true love. True, sisterly love.

"And in the end," Anna whispered, her voice now so hoarse from screaming that her words could barely be made out, "Elsa wasn't the monster... _you_ were. You were the monsters, and everything you've ever done to her has proved it. You were mean, and you were hurtful, and you were horrible, and you know what? I HATE YOU! I really, really hate you!"

And with these words said, those unforgettable words, Anna had collapsed onto the ground, tears streaming furiously down her cheeks. Soft wails escaping her lips, Elsa watched as Anna brought her hands to her face and just broke into them, completely and utterly falling apart. The truth. The truth had brought her down. In one swift motion, without even a single thought to hold her back, Elsa had moved forward and wrapped her arms around the shaking girl in front of her.

"I love you," she whispered, because it was the only phrase she could think to say, and she felt as Anna leaned into her, as if soaking up her strength. She doubted, now, that the girl cared that her skin was cold. There was things much more important in life than temperature, and Anna had just found one.

Half-an-hour later, the two girls positions still hadn't changed. In fact, they could've stayed that way for much longer had Elsa not considered it her duty to make sure Anna didn't end up freezing to death.

"It's alright," Elsa whispered as she pulled away from her sister, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder just to make sure she wasn't still on the verge of falling apart, "It's alright, Anna. It's all in the past."

"NO!" the girl chocked, tears still streaming down her freckled face, "It's not alright! Can't you see that, Elsa? It's just not. None of this is okay!"

"Shhh," Elsa hushed, wiping away the water that flooded from Anna's eyes, "Please, just... don't worry about it, alright? This isn't your battle, and even if it were, it's all over now. The casualties have all been counted, the wounds have all been healed as cleanly as possible, and the best we can do is just go on with our lives and forget it ever happened. We all have our own wars in life, and I never wanted to bother you with mine. I only showed you this because... because you deserved to know, I guess. These were your parents, too, and you deserved to understand what really happened with them. Just don't get too caught up in it, okay? Because it's all over now."

"How can't I?!" Anna shouted, the fire now returning to her eyes, "How can I not get caught up in something like this?! Don't you see how horrible it all is? Look at the way they treated you! Look at all pain they caused you! How I am supposed to just forget the war when you'll always be covered in these battle scars?"

Suddenly, Anna's deep pools of blue met her own, and Elsa got the impression that she wasn't just talking about the small, white lines drawn all over her hands. Wasn't just talking about the physical marks her past had left her with. She was talking about the shattered remains of her spirit. About the crumbling dust of her confidence. About the dark, glowing pit of her self-hatred. Anna knew, now more than ever, that her sister was and always had been plagued by these scars upon her soul. Scars left there by the work of their shared guardians. The people she had loved and trusted from the very bottom of her endless heart.

Maybe—deep down, in the truest and most gruesome part of her mind—Anna had always known it. She had just been too afraid to let herself see, so Elsa had had to do it for her. For both their own goods, even if it didn't exactly feel that way.

"You can't just sit there and be okay with it," Anna spoke up after a long and intense stretch of silence, "You can't sit there and pretend like it doesn't matter. It does, Elsa! It does! You need—you _deserve—_to cry and scream and yell and be... and be... mad! Just be really, really mad! Mom and Dad have done nothing but hurt you! You need to show them just what they did wrong! Make 'em feel like the horrible people they are! C'mon, Elsa! You need to hate them! You need to hate them!"

Anna was gesturing towards the portrait of their parents on the wall, now, and looking very, very excited. Though she was talking almost too fast to be understood, Elsa got the gist of it. Anna wanted her to do what she herself had done just moments ago; she wanted Elsa to yell at the painted images of their parents. To let out all her pent up frustrations and hatred and anger and spill it out in their direction. It was a good suggestion, really. There was just one problem with it.

Anna didn't realize that Elsa didn't have any of that left.

"Anna," Elsa whispered, squeezing the girl's hand and ready to crush her determined plans, "I don't think you really understand. I can't do that."

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, confusion evident in her already emotion-filled voice, "I understand perfectly."

"I'm not sure you do," Elsa continued, looking her in the eyes again, "I know that this information is all brand new for you, so it makes sense for you to be so conflicted and confused and angry, but you have to remember... this all happened to me _years_ ago. Years ago, I was just as confused as you were. Years ago, I was just as angry. Years ago, I hated them just as much. But things happened, I went through a lot, and I found my own way to close those doors. To release all my uncontrollable emotions and learn to move past them. I know you think you're doing well by instructing me to get myself all riled up again, but please, you have to understand that it won't do me any good. I've finally managed to move past that chapter in my life, and I beg you not to pull me right back into it again. I've come to accept the past, and I'm happy now. So don't try to get me back into that frame of mind, because I don't know if I'd be able to find my way out again. It's really time for me to move on, and just focus on healing my wounds the best I can. You... understand?"

Very slowly, very reluctantly, Anna nodded. She almost pouted as she did so, but refrained herself from that childish expression by breaking her face into a small, sympathetic smile.

"I get it," said Anna, "I think I get it. You just want to move on. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course," said Elsa, returning the smile, "And one day you'll move past it, too. Maybe sooner than you expect."

There was a long, thick silence, and for a moment, Elsa almost thought the topic was finished. That was, until...

"But you mean, like, you've forgiven Dad for _everything? Y_ou really don't hate him anymore?"

"How can I?" Elsa asked quietly, shaking her head and feeling her braid ripple against her cheeks, "He made me who I am today... whether that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"It's a good thing, of course!" the redhead shot back, assuming that her sister was once again getting into a self-hating mindset.

"I know you think that, Anna—and let's assume for a second that I think that, too. But the thing is… I'm me, Anna, but I'm a broken version of me. You know I am, you've seen it for yourself. I've always been so lost, and empty, and afraid. My childhood didn't allow me to grow up to my full potential, instead it left me as a broken shell of a person, and so I've been slowly filling myself up ever since. But I'll never _really _be whole again. It just makes me wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"What could I have been, Anna? In some alternative universe, where I didn't have these powers to hold me back and slowly destroy me, what could I have become? Would I have been like you? Cheerful and excited and fearless? Would I have been exactly the same as I am now? Found some other source to cause me pain and loneliness—as if that sort of thing were engraved in my very soul—and still ended up such a pitiful creature? Or would I have been… just different, in some way. Me, but a better version of me."

"I-I don't understand," croaked Anna, her face suddenly going very pale at the mere suggestion.

"My soul was once whole and beautiful… like yours. I know it was, even if I don't exactly remember it that way. It held so much promise, so much beauty, perhaps even containing the ability to one day create a wonderful human being. But I'll never get to see what type of woman my soul was originally supposed to encompass—what I could have become had I not been so incredibly broken up at such a small age—because I've been like this my entire life. Imagine, Anna… imagine a sister who was as brave and fearless as you are, as warm and caring, as incredibly light-hearted. Still me—the same personality, the same likes and dislikes, the same dreams and aspirations—just without the fear, and the coldness, and the part of myself that has been taught so heavily that I'm a monster, that has practically been ingrained with the instinct to shut people out. A version of myself who is the best that I can possibly be. You say that what I am now is good… but compared to what I _could_ have been—had I just been born normal, without all this ice bottled up inside of me—I must look like a complete wreck. What could I have become, Anna, without my powers to hold me back? What do you think?"

Anna looked absolutely startled at the question, as if wondering for the first time just how much she _really_ knew her sister. Not just her secrets, but her personality in general. Who she really was _inside_.

"Um… I—"

"And now that I think about it, who am I even now? The sad thing is… I don't know. I have not the faintest idea. I do these things—things like shutting people out, and reading books constantly, and working all the time—and it makes me wonder. Do I do these them because they were ingrained within me during childhood, or am I—the real me, the pure part of my soul buried beneath all my negative experiences—actually like this? Am I uncomfortable around people because of I've spent my whole life avoiding them, or am I just naturally introverted? Do I read because it's a hobby I picked up to distract myself, or because I generally like the books? Do I work so hard because Father taught me to behave like a queen, or because being serious is a natural part of who I am? I just… I don't know, Anna. I don't know myself. There's a thin line between who I naturally am, and who I was taught to be, and I can't see where it begins and ends. I don't even know the own boundaries of my being. I'm so confused. Everything I do… I'm always wondering. I know thinking so much isn't helping—it would be so much easier to figure out if I just stopped thinking and did whatever felt natural to me—but I just can't help it. I think so much, I'm the queen of an entire empire, and yet… I just don't know myself. It's so ridiculous to think about. I don't know me. Do you know who I am, Anna?"

Elsa was quite sure that she hadn't opened up to someone like this in... ever. Ever. Never before had she revealed all her thoughts and fears and insecurities in one quick flick of the tongue, much less have done so without even a hint of regret. Because, honestly, she didn't regret it. If anybody was to know Elsa's deepest thoughts and secrets, it was Anna. It was only Anna. The other half of her broken soul. The better half.

Suddenly, biting her bottom lip in anticipation and looking up at her sister with incredibly wide eyes, Anna decided to speak up. To interrupt her Elsa's rant with an admission that both shocked and shamed herself.

"I-I don't know, Elsa. I really don't."

Very slowly, Elsa released a long, heavy sigh that shook the very confines of her being. It swept a chill down Anna's spine, and she had to refrain herself from shivering from the cold of it.

"That's alright," Elsa said, "I shouldn't have brought this up, I'm only confusing you. I'm confusing myself a little, too. Let's just forget this, all right? Let's just forget this."

"But I… I can't."

"Hm?" Suddenly, Elsa's eyes shot up from the spot on the floor of which they had been seemingly attached to, and her own confused expression met Anna's broken one.

"I can't forget this, Elsa," Anna whispered slowly, "I'll never look at you the same way again. I used to think that…I used to assume… I just didn't understand! I thought you kept yourself hidden from the world because our parents made a mistake. That they made you fear yourself by accident, and so you stayed away from me because you didn't know any better. But now I realize… you didn't have a choice. You wanted to be with me, but they never gave you a choice! They locked you up and hurt you and… and…they _abused_ you, Elsa. Abused you until you were so broken that all you could _do_ was agree with them! I never though I'd say that about our own parents, but they did. They're… they're… they're monsters, Elsa. They're monsters."

There was a long break of silence between the two sisters. Silence that screamed and rumbled and shook and danced and burned the air around them like the loudest, most vibrant of sounds, but was not a sound at all. Just silence. It slid down their throats like cool, icy liquid. It twisted and turned in their stomachs like the hottest of fires. It rang in their ears like the most beautiful of melodies. And it pressed down on their bodies with the heavy weight of emotion and tension. It pressed down on their bodies with the weight of words unsaid.

"Maybe they are," whispered Elsa, after such a long break that Anna had almost forgotten what she'd last said, "But we love them anyway."

Tears began to prick in the redhead's eyes at the thought, and very slowly, she nodded. "Yeah… I guess we do."

Silence started again, this time far more comfortable than the last, and the next time Anna spoke Elsa could just tell that the conversation would soon be coming to a close. Before long, this would all be behind them.

"You're a hero, Elsa. Do you know that? You're a real hero. Everything you've ever done was for me… you've practically sacrificed your entire life just to make me happy. I must look like a horrible sister in comparison. I mean, just think about it... everything bad that's ever happened to you is because of me."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous now," Elsa said, struggling not to burst out into giggles at the absurdity of the statement, "You know that's not true."

"It _is_ true," Anna insisted, "I know it is."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Just think about it," she went on, eyes suddenly wide and painful, as if realizing this for the first time, "Really, it all makes sense once you do. Remember how all your pain started? Mom and Dad locked you away not because you _had_ powers, but because I was being reckless, and made you slip and hurt me with them. Later on, when you were yelling at Dad for killing that servant, I walked in and made you stop before you could escape for good. And then even _after_ our parents died, you spent years locked up in your tiny, freezing room, reading to stop yourself from feeling just because you were too afraid of hurting me! All you pain... all your sadness... it's all my fault, too."

Elsa was silent for a moment, completely stunned by her usually-cheery sister's self-hating words, and Anna used this quiet to press her point even further.

"If I weren't born, you would've had a much happier childhood."

"No," Elsa began, shaking her head furiously at that statement, "I love you so much, Anna."

"I know you do, and that's what's gotten you into so much trouble! That's what made your life so horrible. You shouldn't. You shouldn't love me at all."

"Anna—" Elsa began again, shocked at her choice of words.

"All I've ever done was bring you pain and misery," Anna went on, "Mom and Dad always treated me like I somehow deserved a better life than you. Even though I didn't. I deserved nothing compared to you."

"Don't—"

"They forced you not to feel, to forget who you really were and to learn how to act all regal and poised and everything! And you had to do all that while I got to run around the castle and be the carefree princess I've always been! All because I was lucky enough to be born second, rather than first. It's not fair!"

"Please—"

"And to think I used to believe YOU were the lucky one! I've never felt more lucky than I do right now, or more guilty, for having a sister whose done everything, gone through all this pain, just to keep me from getting hurt. I'm a horrible, horrible sister. Why do you even love me? Why do you even bother?"

At these words, Elsa took a long, heavy sigh. She looked down at the ground for a moment, and then rose her gaze to meet Anna's, the icy surface of her eyes now melted as the tears threatened to burst from within them. She held them in, though, trying hopelessly to maintain her strong composure.

"I bother," she began slowly, "For the same reason that you once bothered to go running after me on that night of my coronation, when I revealed my secret to the world and showed the monster inside of me. I bother for the same reason that you came to my ice castle and begged me to come with you, even when I pushed you away. I bother for the same reason that—even after I'd nearly killed you _twice_ with ice strikes, even though I'd spent my entire life lying to you and you _still_ didn't know the real reason—you jumped in front of that sword and sacrificed your own life for mine. That's why I bother, Anna. That's why."

Anna went silent for a moment, sniffing silently to herself. After a few seconds, she managed to regain enough compose to whisper hoarsely, one last time, "It's all my fault…"

"You saved me from myself," Elsa said kindly, taking her hand in her own, "And I will never be able to repay you for that."

There was quiet before the girl added, "I couldn't—and still can't—imagine a person in the entire world who'd I'd rather have as a sister."

Anna sniffed loudly at this, rubbing the water from her eyes, but the smile was clearly evident on her lips. "Really?"

"In the entire world," Elsa went on, "You stuck with me through everything… even with what I've done. Even with what I am."

"A miracle," the girl said loudly, keeping her sister from further elaborating, "A miracle is what you are."

At this, Elsa simply couldn't _help_ the snort of laughter that erupted from the depths of her throat. "Now you sound just like Benson."

"Good," Anna responded, "You need another Benson."

Without a warning, a smile curved itself upon Elsa's lips. She couldn't stop it if she tried.

"Maybe I do, Anna. Maybe I do."

* * *

><p>Elsa wasn't sure how much time passed after that, but some comfortable silence later—and after much struggling to keep her eyelids from slipping closed—she felt Anna slip her soft hand into her own. Ever slowly, the redhead crept up from her spot on the carpeted floor, pulling Elsa along with her. Too tired to resist, the exhausted queen allowed herself to be led all the way up the wooden staircase and into her royal bedroom, her bed already made perfectly with her pristine, blue sheets. Elsa collapsed herself down onto one side of it, and much to her surprise, Anna followed her on the other.<p>

"I thought it was cold?" she asked, confused, "You shouldn't sleep too close to me, tonight."

"I'm warm now," Anna whispered, curling up under the covers and nuzzling against her sister's arm. Moments later, before Elsa even had the chance to interrogate her further, she had already drifted off into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

Elsa sighed, amusement and affection bursting from every breath she took, and finally she laid her head against her favorite fluffy pillow.

"Never change," she whispered to the sleeping form lying next to her, and very gently, she allowed her eyelids to slip closed.

Freedom was better than she could've ever imagined. And only now, she knew, was she really, truly free.

All because of Anna.

* * *

><p><strong>Well... how'd you like it? I really hope I at least made you feel <em>something<em>, because I was really trying to create an emotional last chapter (whether I succeeded or not). This definitely isn't as great as I was hoping, but I'll go back and make a lot of little edits later, I was just so excited that I finished I couldn't help but post it now.**

**For those of you who don't understand the freedom bit at the end, remember how I wrote "only when [Elsa] revealed all her secrets would she really, truly be free" four chapters ago? These two chapters are connected, which is why I wrote it like that, but it makes sense that you guys wouldn't remember it, considering I wrote all those little one-shots in between. I'm thinking about taking them out, actually, so that my story can feel more smooth and connected. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys remember the part about Elsa cutting her hands with the cuffs and having them scar over with her powers. It was all the way back in chapter six or something, and it wasn't touched on too heavily, but I thought it was a good idea, regardless. 'The Pianist's Touch' (thank you, btw) PM'd me and suggested that I have Anna see the scars, and since I hadn't yet thought of how to make the topic start, I figured that sounded like a really great idea. I added the bit about the fire for no real reason, though. It's just that since the beginning I've always imagined Elsa sticking her hand into fire and having this really cool reaction occur XD. That was the reason why I kept saying, throughout this entire fic, that Elsa can't feel any temperatures. I really wanted to include the fire _somewhere_ in my story, so I figured now was my last chance.**

**Now that I got all that out of the way, I just want to tell you all... thank you._ Thank you_! Thanks so much for reading, and reviewing, and favoriting, and doing whatever else you do for my fanfic. It means so, so much that you all liked my Elsa story, since it really did come from my heart. Elsa is such a brave, amazing character to me, and I'm sure we can all relate to how it feels to be so afraid of judgement ****from others that we hide who we really are inside. I'm a really insecure person, so Elsa is a really great role model to me, and just like with all my favorite heroes I couldn't help but make up a tragic backstory for her in which she overcomes seemingly-impossible obstacles. I almost didn't write this fanfic because I didn't think anybody would like it, but I'm incredibly glad that I decided to, just because of all your support. Every review I get literally brightens up my entire day, and I just love you guys so much!**

**Luckily, Elsa's story isn't over _yet_. Like I told you, I'll be writing a sequel for this. I won't be posting it until after my finals, however, so you guys may have to wait a few long weeks or even months before I start it up. I still need to organize it a little more in my head, since it's really jumbled up in there, but hopefully I'll be able to start it as soon as possible. I can't wait to see what you guys will think of it. See you all then! **

**I know this is a little selfish, but I can't help but ask... for all you people out there who have been reading but not reviewing, it would mean a whole lot to me if you'd review just to tell me what you think. I have some really great, consistent reviewers who comment every time, but it would be awesome to hear from people who have read silently for so long. Even something short would be fine, I just want to know how many people are actually liking this. THANK YOU!**


	15. The Sequel

**Hey everybody! Sorry if I surprised any of you by posting another chapter, but I just wanted to tell you all that I've finally written and posted the prologue to the sequel!**

***waits for applause***

**It's called 'Many Forms of Sacrifice,' and I'm sure you can find it easily in my story library or something. It's sort of going to be very different from this fanfic, so let me point out a few things about it before you go looking for it. **

**First of all, it's a lot more action-y and movie-like than the first one. For those of you that prefer things with more emotional depth and feelings (such as myself) please stick with me! It might take a few chapters, but I wrote my first outline ever for this fanfic and I actually have some very dark scenes coming up that I think you'll all like. It's not as cheesy as the description makes it sound. **

**Secondly, it's not so much a sequel to _this_ fanfic as it is to just 'Frozen' in general. I don't know why I planned it that way, but it's just how it turned out. I hope this doesn't disappoint any of you, but I personally feel that this chapter of Elsa's life is over for her, so I'm only going to have small references towards her past. I didn't even write 'sequel' in the description because I wanted more people to click on it. **

**Last of all, I've been having a very busy summer lately, so my updating might not be as clean as it was for my first fanfic (or at least the begging of my first fanfic, I sort of got lazy near the end). I'm currently working on writing two novels, both which I'm very excited about, so for all the time I'm not doing anything, I'm mostly working on those. I will try to squeeze in the sequel when I can, though, so hopefully things shouldn't be too bad.**

**Well, that's pretty much it. I really do hope you enjoy my sequel, and I can't wait for your feedback. Just as a warning, though, the prologue to the story is kind of lame, but I couldn't think of any way to make it better XD. See you guys later! **


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